The Arranged Marriage
by lilka6666
Summary: Much to Sookie's dismay, a handsome, tall mysterious figure she doesn't know wants her to be his wife. There is so much more to this stranger, Eric, than is seen to the eye. When Sookie discovers what dark secrets he is hiding, dating back to childhood, as well the dangers about the world they live in, will she be able to fully let him into her life, and love him? Lemon content. AU
1. The Stranger in the Overcoat

** I own nothing to do with SVM and TB. I am just a fan and wanted to try something a bit different. Feel free to let me know if it captures your interest, and If you would be interested in more. Sookie is forced into marriage with a strange man, who seems a bit different. It might OOC at times, because Sookie is initially put out by his forward devotion to her. Hope you will be interested in more, though. Sookie in this is around twenty, Eric is much older (say, thirty three).**

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_**The Arranged Marriage**_

The first time I met him, I knew there was something a bit off about him.

I was at holy Mass with my Grandmother, Adele.

My Grandmother was always big on religion, and I suppose I was raised that way, also. I'll never forget the way he stared at me, from across the room. People were filling in, Church was all the rage for people in Bon Temps, and I remember Gran was holding onto my arm so tightly like a blind woman.

I spotted him before he spotted me. He was trailing down the centre aisle to get to an empty pew. I remember being stunned by how tall he was; He was probably the tallest man in Church that day. He was wearing a long black overcoat and black trousers, with dressy black shoes. His hair was slicked back and damp with water artfully for Mass. We all liked to look our neatest for Church.

Truth be told, I noticed a lot of people in attendance giving him funny looks. He wasn't a regular to Mass. I don't think anyone in attendance had ever met him before. He must have liked to keep to himself, and not mingle much with anyone. He sat right in front of Maxine Fortenberry, and I could almost hear her when she tapped him on the shoulder in annoyance and told him his head was in the way of her seeing the Priest. I could almost hear him apologizing profusely to her, as he stood and shuffled out of the pew to find another place where he wouldn't be in anyone's way.

The only empty seat left was the one next to myself and my Grandmother, and I remember praying, Oh God, please don't let him sit near us. God mustn't have answered my prayers that day, because he did anyway. He solemnly marched over to the empty seat in the pew next to me, and I remember him sitting so close to me in proximity that our elbows touched every time either one of us moved.

A quiet flew into the entire Church as Father Simon got to the stage. And then, holding my Grandmother's hand, we all stood as he called us all to our feet for first prayer. The tall man in the black overcoat beside me stood awkwardly and shoved his hands deeply into the pockets of his coat. We all uttered it at the same time, and Gran and I had already learned it by heart:

_Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..._

I couldn't help but notice the man standing next to me was silent all throughout the prayer. It was obvious he hadn't been to Church before, he was a newcomer.

When I dared to peek over at him before we all sat again in our seats, I found he was already looking right at me. Our eyes met, and held for a long and silent moment. He wasn't all that bad looking, and it was the first time a man really looked at me, with such avid attention and interest. He was looking at me a bit like I was his own personal Jesus. Shyly, I looked away as we all called back into our seats. I could feel his eyes boring into my cheeks.

The Mass proceeded with readings. One, the Priest told of Shepard's who came to the manger. Same story as always, easily learned by heart. I couldn't help but notice the tall man beside me was jiggling his leg, in a very distracting way near mine. When I dared to look at him again, he had his eyes closed. He seemed very daunted by Church, or maybe it was just being in the presence of a crowd of people. And then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You're beautiful." It was the first time a man had ever called me that before. Beautiful.

And it was a pretty sleazy move of him, attempting to pick up a much younger girl in Church.

I darted him an odd look that told him he was weird. He didn't pick up on that, though. I guess he was far too persistent.

"Are you alone here today? How would you like to accompany me afterwards for-"

I stopped him by shushing him quietly with a finger pressed to my lips, and Gran turned in her seat to fix a stern look on him over my shoulder. He trailed off into silence, either embarrassed or disgraced in himself. Gran didn't like anyone talking in Church. She was a religious fanatic in that way.

He didn't speak to me again. At least, not until Church was over and we all were bid to stand.

"Amen, and may the Lord be with you," we all said back to the Priest serenely, with the exception of this strange tall man, who remained silent.

I turned, and he was blocking the way out of the pew. He slipped one hand out of his coat, and then took hold of one of mine. I remember his fingers being so cold, like he had immersed them in snow or something a few moments earlier, which was odd. Louisiana was hardly a snowy place. He took my hand and guided my knuckles up to his lips quickly, holding my gaze earnestly all the while, with a twinkle in his eye. I couldn't believe the gall he had to try this on me in Church.

"I want you," he whispered hoarsely into my knuckles, breathing all over my skin like a desperate man.

Gran was not pleased, to say the least. She cleared her throat in a very frustrated way, and I guess he got the vibe she was sending off clearly. Quickly, he let go of my hand, and without warning, he quickly slid out of the pew and stormed out of the Church. I remember my Grandmother's eyes following his back disapprovingly while he did it, and then he disappeared out the door, and it slid back shut behind him.

He was strange, for lack of a better word. And, something told me I would be seeing a lot more of him from that day forward, and I was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you :) Hope you like this one**

**Chapter Two**

After that sleazy first time at Church, where he had kissed me on the hand and said all those inappropriate things to me, I was a little wary of seeing him again, which surely you couldn't blame a person for being; Even though it spooked me out a bit and flattered me all in equal measure, I couldn't deny the thought of him lingered in my mind far more times than I was proud to count after that first meeting. There was just something odd about this stranger. The way he had kissed me, the touch of his lips on my knuckles... the cold skin. Weird. Weird. Weird. It all screamed weird to me.

I didn't see him again, until next weekend at Mass. I was very relieved to find he wasn't in the Church building. Gran was dying to get home to water her garden, and I was leading her carefully through the large swarm of people flocking out of the building. And then, I had let go of her hand for one second, and she was gone and had been pushed behind me and lost in the sea of people attending Mass. I didn't know why I really panicked, but I did. I thought Gran was going to get trod on, or that she would fall and everyone would trample all over her with their feet. That's how dangerous end of Mass gets when people want to get home in time for lunch. So, I stood around by the entrance, craning my neck to catch sight of her head and face somehow through all the bodiless people's heads stampeding around. It was then a hand had closed tightly around my wrist and trotted me outside of Church and pushed me up behind the wall that made up its ancient bricked and boxy frame.

I was too preoccupied with the stress of losing my Grandmother to even think straight or coherently realize the possible danger of having an unknown man literally pinning me against the hard brick wall, and making a sandwich of it. My heart was thumping in my chest, I felt my eyebrows drawing together in fear, and my teeth were clenched achingly.

The side of the man's knuckles ran tenderly down my cheek, and I knew it was instantly him the instance that cold skin alerted me and warned me of his presence. "Hello," he said, rather breathlessly. "I knew you would be here again. Routines. Humans thrive on routine."

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for Grandmother." I tried to speak as calmly and quietly as I could, despite the bad feelings I felt inside over being cornered into a wall with some creepy stranger. For all I knew, he could have been an axe-murderer or something. "I don't even know you, and you sure as hell don't know me, and right now, this is pretty rude cornering some girl you don't know into a wall!"

"I know you," he insisted into my ear.

"Well, I definitely do not know you, and you're sort of creeping me out, so can you please get away from me?"

I tapped him in the shin with the tip of my right shoe to warn him, and I tried to shimmy away from the wall to put some space between us. Naturally, he placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back, almost effortlessly. He must have worked out at the gym, or something.

"Who are you?" I demanded, bothering to look at him for the first time, and it was then I saw he was wearing that same-old long trench coat he wore last week. I got to thinking pitifully that maybe he was a homeless man, who couldn't afford many pairs of clothes? Then again, maybe he just didn't care for them? "I've never seen you around here before, so _who_ are you? And _how_ can you say you know me, when I _definitely_ don't know you?"

He laughed; a short incredulous one at me, and leaned in closer to the point where I couldn't even hear him breathing. His skin was so incredibly pale it looked as though he was made of wax, rather than flesh. "But you _do_ know me, and I know you."

"You don't know me," I muttered forcefully, hardly bothering to lower my voice any longer. "And I don't know you. Well, I think I'm understanding the type that you are, and that's unnerving and disturbed mentally. I mean, who does this to a girl?"

"You're not just any girl, are you?"

"Excuse me?" I gasped, affronted. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to rest it against the bricks of the wall behind me. This was too much. Too much. All I wanted was to find my poor Grandmother. "What gives you right to make assumptions on the type of girl I am? I meant it; you don't know me!"

"You're so much more than just any girl." He touched my face again gently, as if to convince me on that, and when I reopened my eyes slowly, he was staring deeply down into mine with the startling eager tenderness of a man who knew me, and was completely infatuated with me. But that was the problem; He didn't know me, and I didn't know him. So, why was he looking at me like that? It completely spun me off the deep end. "You're so much more than that. At least, you're going to be." And then he had smiled down at me, a sort of slow and dreamy smile, and whispered, so self-depreciatingly, "I know I probably won't deserve the good fortune of having a woman, like you, as my wife. And you're right; You do not know me, but I feel as if I have known you the instance I laid eyes on you last week." He gripped my hand in his strongly, and searched into my face for some level of understanding which he wasn't going to get. To be perfectly honest, I was speechless and struggling then. "And if you agree to be mine, I will not deny you of anything. There will be loyalty, and devotion. When I saw you last week, I wanted you as mine the very instance I saw you, and have dreamed of you being mine ever since that morning, and now I-" He fell into an awkward silence abruptly, and closed his mouth to stop himself from talking nonsense.

And then he let go of my hand quickly and shoved his hands back into the pockets of his coat, being sure to take a few steps back from me.

I realized why then, and I was immediately thankful the instance Gran came rushing over to me. My entire body relaxed, and I found I could smile more easily then.

"Oh, Sookie," she had laughed and hugged me, not before spinning around and fixing a stern look on my companion, who was staring at me like I was glittering or something. Gran was sure to be extra quiet, as she leaned in and whispered in my ear worriedly, "Not that strange man again. Was he bothering you?"

"No, Gran," I assured her, even though it wasn't quite the truth. I hugged her back tightly, disarmed by the way he was staring at me behind her back. Did he really have to stare? Perhaps sensing my uneasiness, he cleared his throat gently before bringing his eyes away. And what a relief it was. "Gran, I was so worried I lost you just then." I forced a laugh and tried to forget the tall man standing around, no doubt eavesdropping on us. "I thought you were going to get stomped on!"

"Oh, no. Maxine just grabbed me for a talk."

"Can I do that?" The man suddenly spoke from behind her, and Gran gasped in surprise. We both stared at him practically at the same time. "Can I borrow you, I mean? There is something I would like to ask you, in regards of your Granddaughter..."

Gran was very reluctant, but after I patted her on the shoulder lightly in reassurance, she was fine. I watched them nervously and their body language as he steered my Grandmother off into the opposite direction. It was nerve-wracking the way he looked at her, deeply into her eyes. He seemed like a very intense person, judging by how seriously he was talking to her. Something he said that surprised her, because a moment later, she laughed out loud in astonishment and grabbed her throat with her hands. Her hands flailed around a bit, as she did when she was happy about something, and then she was ushering him over to me.

"I'll give you two some privacy," she said, throwing a very gleeful wink my way, and then off she went, leaving me a simmering, shocked mess. I had half a mind to call her back so that she wouldn't leave me alone with this very strange man, who was just practically proposing to me minutes ago.

"She's a very strong woman," the man remarked from behind me conversationally. "Now I know where you must get your fire from."

I turned to look at him sourly. He was grinning like a man who had only just won the lottery. "You seemed to have forgotten our brief conversation minutes ago, and are under some misapprehension that you know me, when you don't. Are you crazy? Do you have some type of, uh, mental disorder that confuses you?"

He laughed quietly at that. Then looked deadly thoughtful as he walked up behind me. "Perhaps I do have some type of mental condition," he said wonderingly. "A crime of passion that renders me unstable. I hear that's a winning excuse nowadays."

"I don't know what mental condition you have, but I will say that you strike me as a very strange man, and I don't like strange men. So, I would appreciate it if you would kindly leave me alone and stop trying your luck on me."

"Ah. Is that what you call it?" He looked perplexed. "Trying my luck on you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I call it," I told him disgustedly.

"Is it working?"

"Definitely not." Instead of discouraging him, much to my annoyance, he jabbed a thumb over into the general direction of where my Grandmother was, mingling.

"Well, it seems to have worked quite quickly on her."

"Why are you wearing the exact same clothes you were wearing last week?" So much for being polite and ladylike. I can't hardly control the things that come off my tongue. "Are you, um... poor? Is that why?" I stared at him sympathetically, hating the unwanted tingle of sadness that overcame me. "Do you not have many pairs of clothes on you?"

"How rude of you to ask me that." He seemed to be offended. I'm sure he was pretending, though. "No, I am not 'poor', as you put it. These are just my best clothes. I wanted to look good for you."

"And why would you want to look good for someone you don't know? That's pretty pointless and silly, isn't it?"

"I don't know." He shrugged and gave me a side-long contemplative look. "Is it silly to you?"

"I don't know. In some ways, it is. It's like... who cares what other people think of you, you know? They're just strangers. If they don't like you, big whoopee. There's plenty of other fish in the sea."

"But a man should always put effort into impressing his wife." For emphasize, I think, he ran his hands through his hair. "It is big whoopee, if the wife does not like it."

He was starting to sound like a broken record. Wife. Wife. Wife. Blah -blah.

"Oh, so you're doing this to impress your wife? Where is she?" I pretended to be curious, and pointed over to Maxine, who clearly had already brought her lunch along with her. She was scarfing down some food. "That her over there?" I pointed at another lady, who looked miles too old for him, even though I didn't know his age. "Or her? Where is this wife of yours that you're just dying to impress?"

I was too preoccupied with my own game that I hadn't noticed him making a move towards me. He reached over and touched my cheek. "Here, she is." And then he leaned down and kissed my forehead, in a very affectionate and drawn-out way. He was so determined that I was his wife. I didn't even know why. Still don't.

**Please review. What do you think of this Sookie and Eric?**


	3. Be My Wife

**Thank you for your responses :) Hope you like this one**

**Chapter Three**

He had won my Grandmother over. She liked him straight-up from the get-go. She couldn't understand my doubts over him, his... oddity. The next two evenings went by, and she was forcing me into having him over. I guess she knew, in hindsight, what he had wanted from me.

He was to come over this evening and, instance the doorbell rang, Gran was racing to answer it like a mad woman.

I dithered by the doorway eavesdropping, my hopes of him not turning up instantly foiled. It _was_ him, all right. I could hear their muted voices throughout the hallway by the front door. Not only was he early, but he was _twenty_ minutes early!

"I apologize for being so early," he laughed nervously, and I could tell Gran found it so endearing of him. He was instantly winning her approval, and charming her mitts off. "Call me overeager, but I was really looking forward to this."

"Oh, earliness is always a good sign of a man's character," Gran insisted conversationally.

"Well, I certainly hope so." I stole a brief and quick peek behind the wall at them. They were standing at the front door; Well, at least Gran was. He still outside, hanging about near the threshold that lead into the hallway. The tall man was considerately wiping the soles of his shoes on the bristly front mat, as if to rid them of dirt, and Gran was looking at him in an odd way I could only describe as a mixture of both awe and admiration. "May I come in?"

"Of course, you're very welcome to," Gran laughed in glee.

"Please, say I can come in," he urged her. He was definitely winning Gran over within a heartbeat.

"Yes, do come in. We're very happy to have you in our home tonight." And, with that, she gave an awkward hand gesticulation, as if to wave him in.

He gave her a silent thankful smile, and quickly, I ducked around the corner as not to be caught out.

"Uh, where is she?" Instantly, I knew he was referring to me.

"Sookie, where are you?" Gran called cheerfully, and I cursed underneath my breath. I wished I could have somehow dissolved into the carpet then, as not to have to endure this terrible evening. Honestly, after our talk two days ago in the yard of Church, I wouldn't have been more the merry to avoid this strange man forever. "Sookie?" Gran called again in a more impatient way when she received no answer from me, and I knew it was her infamous tone that told me I'd better get my butt out of the living room and make nice with this strange man fast.

"Yes, Gran," I sighed. "Coming!"

She called my name yet again, so swallowing down my irritation, I strode down the hallway to greet him.

"Oh, good. Here she is," Gran said, in relief, once I reached them. "Well, I suppose I ought to leave the pair of you to it. I might go prepare the four of us some snacks." She patted me on the arm as she passed me, and it seemed a warning pat-down that told me to be friendly, or else. "Sookie, be a good hostess and show Mr. Northman around the house," she told me, as she was halfway to the small kitchen.

Mr. Northman! He has a name. Well, a last name, at least. At the discovery, I felt all the little hairs on the nape of my neck stick on end.

"You look very nice," he said, commenting on the way I was dressed, with a swift tilt of his chin at my floral dress and the cardigan I was wearing for the evening. Instantly, I knew with in the way he said the comment, it was that he assumed I had dressed so nicely for him. And, in a sense, I had, at Gran's insistence, of course. It wasn't because I liked him in some way, or wanted him impressed.

"Do I?" I said it far too sharply, and it seemed he had caught onto my brisk and curt manner. His face fell a fraction, and I savoured the look on his face, even if it was slightly cruel of me.

"Yes, you do." I was enjoying his ongoing discomfort more than what was probably considered polite. But too bad. "As you can probably see for yourself, I'm wearing the best clothes I have again." In a somewhat self-conscious gesture, he ran his hands down the sides of his trousers.

And maybe, deep down inside, it registered in my mind that he did look very charming in his blue suit. What was so formal about the occasion, though?

"Yes, I can sure see that," I answered stiffly. He wasn't going to get any compliments from me.

We stood around, in a way that felt awkward and as if years had passed us by. And then, he said uncertainly, "How about that tour of your house?"

"Fine," I muttered, resigned. I walked into the living room and only bothered to turn around to make sure he was following. He was staring at me. It was like our other surroundings hardly interested him at all.

"Can we sit for a bit?" he asked, pointing towards the couch.

I didn't answer. I just sat, and I guess he took that as permission himself. He sat on the couch beside me, and suddenly it felt too small. Our thighs were touching, and it occurred to me that he was sitting far too close than I would have liked. I tried to scoot over a bit to make some room, but stopped abruptly when he went so far as to place his hand gently on my knee, as if to magically stop my squirming. And it certainly did stop it. It probably wasn't meant to be intended as sexual, but it sure did feel sexual to me. A sexually inappropriate gesture.

I glared at his hand, and since it was my face he was looking at, he caught onto it quickly. It was his turn to squirm and, awkwardly, he removed it and placed it decently against his thigh, rubbing up and down quickly.

"So, uh. Sookie? Is that name short for something? Japanese?"

"No, it isn't."

"What do you do?" he asked, a bit nervously and tensely. I'm assuming he was asking me what I did, as far as jobs go.

"I work casually as a waitress at Merlotte's, from time to time. When I don't, I study." It was all I felt necessary to tell him. He was a stranger, after all. I didn't want to give too much away.

"Oh, really?" He seemed interested by that, which was the very last thing I was hoping for. "What do you study?"

"Certain different things," I said shortly, shrugging.

"Well, that is wonderful." We fell into an unbearable awkward silence after that. He cleared his throat, in a gentle and nervous way. His hands were restless, rubbing up and down the material of his pants. He had a heavy looking gold ring on his index finger, with a big black stone in the middle that glinted this way and that way off the light. I could feel his eyes on me. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye; One of his eyebrows were raised, as if he was amused and waiting for me to say something. "Uh, aren't you going to ask me what I do?" he prompted, with humour.

"What do you do, then?" I sounded just as disinterested as I felt.

"I am currently trying to open a bar, in the Shreveport area. Vampire themed."

"Why vampire themed?" My voiced failed me; I sounded interested, because I was. "You like vampires or something?"

A soft smirk formed over his features. "Something like that, yes." He gave out a short laugh. Then he laid his hand on my knee again, and turned a fraction on the seat of the couch. "I have something I would very much like you to consider."

"Ask away, then."

He started stroking my knee, in an extremely touchy-feely way that unsettled me. And then it dramatically stilled, when footsteps pounded down the stairs.

As if right on cue, my older brother, Jason, was storming down the stairs. I felt instant relief over the familiarity of my brother entering the living room. He was clad in no more than his boxer shorts and socks; minimalistic things to be wearing in front of a guest. He stopped stock-still awkwardly when his eyes settled on our unknown guest. Our guest took his hand off my knee and scrutinized my brother, and I was stunned by the sudden shift in his posture and demeanour. His eyes were frosty and cold, as he took in my brother's shirtless form. Poor Jason was almost blushing.

"Well, damn," he chortled, trying to make light of the situation, which was typical of my brother. "Gran never told me we had a guest over. Friend of yours, Sook?"

"Um, I don't know," I laughed nervously, unsure of whether to call him my friend or not. I didn't even know him.

"Eric," the tall man said, and in an oddly dismissive way, he turned back in his seat to stare at me intently. I really wished he wouldn't stare so much. "There is something I urgently need to ask you. Is there anywhere we could go? Somewhere with a little less... distraction maybe?" By distractions, he obviously meant my brother, because he darted him an icy look over his shoulder along with it.

Jason backtracked, getting the vibe he was sending off loud and clear. He put his hand up into the air apologetically. "Hey, don't mind me. I'm just coming down here to check the scores." And by scores, Jason meant the latest football game, of course. He made himself at home by plopping down onto the one-seater couch and flicking on the television, going to extreme lengths to ignore us. It was far too loud, all the wild cheering from spectators filling the room.

I looked over at my strange guest, and he looked as if he was biting down on the tip of his tongue to stop himself in time enough from saying something extremely unpleasant to my brother. He took firm hold of my hand and before I had enough time to protest, he was pulling me off the couch and sending me off out into the hallway. He stopped and looked down at me with such urgency, it was startling. I noticed in by taking my hand, he had slipped something light and papery into it.

I glanced down at it uncertainly, assuming it was just a note. When I unfurled it carefully, and read it, it dawned onto me then just what he was giving me.

It was a check for $24,000 signed by an Eric Northman.

I was speechless, and read it again, just to be sure.

"What?" I gasped, flustered by the enormous weight of what the paper held in it, and what it signified. "Why're you giving me this?"

"Turn it over," he whispered, and I caught onto the way his voice broke with intense emotion. I did as he said, and there it was. Three words, weighing so heavily down onto my conscience.

_Be my wife._

His wife? His_ wife_!

"In opening this bar, I know I will become a very wealthy man in time," he continued on weakly, as though it mattered to me. "And, in you agreeing to this, you won't be denied of anything." His voice shook and broke. "A man is nothing if he doesn't have purpose in the world. That purpose, can be you. I can make the money, and provide for us. We will be wealthy, and well-off. I have never been more certain of anything else in my entire life, but that I want you."

"Want me?" My voice was just as uneven and breathless. "But you don't even know me?"

"Well, I guess that can be easily solved. We can learn to get to know each other. We can take it slowly, day by day." And I pushed the check back into his hand tightly. It was ridiculous. I'd heard enough.

I looked up at him, and his face was so hopeful and earnest. I realized he truly wanted this. And it scared the life out of me.

"I can't," I protested, suddenly fearful. "I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?" He sounded as if he was trying to contain his temper. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Things like this happen in the world all the time! People get married without knowing so much as the other person's name! They come out of it just fine!"

"I don't know you, and you're... you're... _strange_!"

"Strange?" He laughed out loud in exasperation. "Well, thank you!"

Gran came bursting out of the kitchen a moment later. I could tell by the expression on her face that she had heard everything. "Oh!" She laughed, and without warning, she embraced us both. "This is the happiest moment of my life! My granddaughter getting married!"

Nothing could ever go past my Grandmother's ears.


	4. Your Fire

**Thank you for your responses :) Hope you like this one. Is Eric a vampire? How come he was out during the day? I guess you'll just have to stick around and see ;)**

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**Chapter Four**

The worst idea struck me as I laid around in bed, unable to sleep after tonight's events, after Eric Northman left. It refused to leave me. What if my Grandmother had set this up? Maybe she was so eager to send me off into the arm's of some stranger because she wouldn't be around for much longer? Gran wasn't that old. Sixty was hardly old in my books, and surely, she would have told Jason and I first thing if she was terminally ill, wouldn't she?

The uneasiness settled deeply into my stomach that it was a possibility. Gran probably wouldn't dare tell Jason and I; She always tried to be strong for us. Oh, God. What if she is dying? Unable to take the panic any longer, I leapt out of bed, pulled on a long pair of pyjama pants, and rushed to her room.

Unsurprisingly, my Grandmother was still awake and immersed in reading a book. She was resting on three or so pillows, and her back was turned against the lamp light on the bedside drawer. She startled when I came bursting in.

"Gran, you're sick, aren't you?"

"What?" she asked, sitting up slowly onto her side.

"Don't try to hide it from me, Gran. Is this why you're so eager to send me off into this stranger's arms? You're sick! It's really, really bad, isn't it? You're dying, and the only reason you want me to marry this creep is because you expect him to take care of me!"

Completely stunning me, she took the totally opposite reaction than I was expecting. Rather instead of looking glum and announcing she was, in fact, terminally ill, she closed her thick book with a loud snap and laughed out loud in bewilderment. "Sookie, you silly girl. I'm not sick, and I'm not dying," she assured me. "I may be old, but I'm not quite ready to cark it just yet."

She patted the space beside her on her bed gently, and I threw myself on it stomach-first.

I touched her hand. "Gran, you'd tell us if you were sick, right?" I asked her nervously.

She laughed again, and ran her fingers through my hair. "Darling, I am not sick, and, even if I was, you can bet your bottom dollar I'd be telling it to you and Jason right now."

Oh, well, what a relief. My entire body felt lifted.

"Where did you get that ridiculous thought from, anyhow?" she asked, patting me on my forehead.

"I don't know," I admitted glumly. "I just don't understand."

"Understand what, honey?"

"Why you're practically ready to send me off with this random guy we've only just met at Church last week." I looked her over desperately. "I thought maybe it was reasonable, if you were in fact going to cark it sometime soon. But if you're not then... why?"

She smiled to herself softly, and it was one of her looks that told me she was about to tell me a story about her past life with my Grandpa Earl. I settled myself in for a long and cosy tale, and shifted around on my back to look up at the ceiling while she played with my hair. "Did you know that when your Grandfather and I first met, I didn't like him? I wasn't interested one bit, but he was so damn persistent."

"What?" I was almost bouncing around on the bed in sheer outrage. "Yeah, right! I thought it was the whole love-at-first-sight deal for you two?"

My Grandfather had passed away when I was roughly around seven years old. Because Jason and my parent's died when we were little, Gran and Grandpa kindly took us under their care. Gran and Grandpa seemed like two peas in a pod. I can't even remember a single time they fought in the house. At least, not in front of Jason and I anyway.

"I thought you and Grandpa hit it off straight from the start?" I asked, shocked.

"No, no. Definitely not," Gran laughed, waving an arm in the air dismissively. "I don't know where you got that from, but it certainly wasn't that way for me!"

"So, you didn't like him at first? You hated him? Or did you think he was kind of... cute?"

"Honestly? I felt absolutely nothing for him."

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing." She sighed, and smiled at some fond memories that were going over in her head. "I knew he was interested, though. He made that damn well clear on me. First time he asked me out on a date, I pretended I already had a boyfriend. He asked around, found out I didn't, of course." She laughed again. "You want to hear what he said first time he saw me?"

"What, Gran?" I was literally on pins and needles to hear it. I always loved hearing Gran's stories.

"He took one look at me, and said, so assuredly, 'I am gonna marry you one day'."

We both had a good laugh at that. Wow. My Grandfather. The cocky Romeo.

"And, you know what the sad part was? He _did_ end up marrying me. There was just a certain way he looked at me." She was starting to get all flustered simply by thinking about it. "It was like a real romantic and gentle look, and I guess... his persistence paid off in the end. It was annoying, though." She grabbed my hand and clung to it gently. I was starting to feel worried she was about to cry; She looked so emotional. "Oh, and Sookie. The way that man looked at you tonight, he couldn't take his eyes off you. He reminded me a bit of the way your Grandfather looked at me."

I made a face, and fought against sticking out my tongue.

The way this Mr. Northman looked at me, it was anything but a romantic and soft look in my view. He just... stared and stared and stared, all evening, as though I had something on my face, or something. And I definitely didn't have anything on my face tonight.

Gran sighed, somewhat wistfully, and patted my hand. "You know, if a man looks at you like that, then it's proof its the real deal. Your Grandfather looked at me like that, and we lasted very nearly over a generation together."

"But Gran," I groaned. "He looks at me weird, and it makes me feel... funny. There's something different about that man, I swear!"

"It's a romantic look," she insisted.

"Romantic? Gran, I don't even know him!"

"Well, that's why people get married. To get to know each other. You never know what a man is truly like until you marry him. And he seems polite, and he's certainly handsome enough, isn't he?"

I considered that in silence, biting my lip. Yes, he had certainly seemed polite enough tonight. But the way he looked at my brother... that look was hard enough to melt an ice-block. Plus, he seemed far too intense. What did he want me as his wife for?

"Gran, this is the same guy who kissed my hand at Church and tried to pick me up last week," I reminded her angrily. "The same guy! And, deny it all you want, but I know you weren't pleased over that! I mean, what guy does that to a girl in Church?"

"And what man looks a girl straight in the eye and says he gonna marry her one day?" All right, so she had a valid enough point there. But still.

"What was with him giving me that check, though? Twenty-four thousand? That's bad news, right? If he wants to get a bride, why doesn't he just buy one off the internet? They have mail order brides, right?"

"I don't think he meant anything by it. He was probably just trying to express how wealthy he was, dear? Who knows?"

"But you loved Grandpa _when_ you got married, right?"

She considered that in silence for a very long thoughtful moment. "I don't think it was love I felt for him," she admitted hesitantly after a while. "I think I was very flattered by his persistence, most of all. I don't think you can really love someone, until you go through the long haul with them. It's more companionship, at first. And compatibility. Marriage is like a partnership, a friendship. It has to be with a person you can stand being around with for life. It isn't a constant state of loving that person. It's mostly based on friendship, and love comes along the way..."

"For life, though?" I felt my eyes bug out of my sockets incredulously. "The way you put it, you might as well say it's a prison sentence, Gran!"

"Well, there are some similarities." She laughed then sobered up pretty quickly, lost in her own private world of thoughts. "You know, I would never push you into anything unless I was one hundred percent positive it was the right thing for you. And, this man... I can just tell it's right."

"But we don't know him," I pointed out to her firmly.

"Yes, we don't. But the way he looked at you tonight, I can see a man who already is underneath your spell." Gran was a true romantic at heart. I rolled my eyes at her, and she patted my cheek. "Don't roll your eyes at me. It's the truth. I know he will end up being good to you."

"How can you be so sure, though? You've only met him like twice."

"Yes, dear. But when he got me alone at Church a few days ago, I could just tell he was serious about you."

"How serious?" I asked after a while, trying to act disinterested.

She thought hard about that for a moment and then looked over at me, happiness lurking in her eyes. "He said you were the most prettiest girl he's ever seen in years, and that he'd feel it a privilege to be your husband."

I waved my hand around and made a rude noise of protest.

"He did!" She slapped me playfully on the hand. Then she sat up straighter on her bed and peered down at me with total honesty. "Honey, I'm not forcing you into anything. I'm just saying you ought to give the man a chance. You're right; I don't know him, no less what he's like. But judging by my impression of him tonight, and solely that, I'd say he's a keeper. I know marriage is a serious commitment, and I'm real glad you're taking it seriously and feeling a bit daunted. It would be silly to rush into something like that. I think what you should do is allow him to get to know you, and you to get to know him in return. Try to refrain from judging for the time being. I know it can be scary when a man is so forward with expressing his interests in you. It can feel at times overwhelming and terrifying, but that's only because you're frightened of letting the other person into your heart and getting too close."

Suddenly, after having cleared up a few things with Gran, it felt like a big load off my shoulders. I felt a bit more contented about the situation. One of the many things I loved about Gran, was that she was so easy to talk to. She may be frustrating at times, sure. But I know she only does it because she had my best interests at heart.

"And what if I find out he isn't the type of man I like, and I don't want to marry him?"

"Well, then don't. That's purely your own decision to make. No one can make you feel otherwise. You've got to trust your own gut instinct. But I'm telling you, when a man looks at a woman like that..." And then she was off, sighing dreamily. "But it doesn't have to be all that serious. The best way to get to know someone is sometimes having fun together. That's the most enjoyable side to it. Call him, ask him to go to the theatre with you, even. Forget about marriage for the time being. Just enjoy yourself."

In all the only way I knew would make myself feel better, I laughed and said my good nights for the evening. Gran had certainly given me a lot of food for thought on this.

Get to know him. Trust my gut instinct. It was easier said than done, though, when my gut was telling me there was just something odd about him. But trusting Gran's advice, I decided I would give the guy the benefit of the doubt, for now. That didn't mean I was going to jump right in and say that I was going to marry him. I was just going to let myself... get to know him. Whoever that person inside of him was.

And maybe a few things she said did hit home to me. It was uneasy being around him, and nerve-wracking, because no guy had ever outright been so forward and hasty on their feelings for me. I hadn't ever been in a serious relationship before. There weren't many guys in high school that I had been seriously interested in. I'd dabbled in dates once or twice, but it never amounted to anything serious. Maybe the whole reason I was feeling a bit unsure was because this man was older? I didn't know how old that was, but he sure did look about in his thirties, if outwards appearance was anything to go by. I decided I would also be taking a leaf out of her book in calling him. Maybe I am being far too hasty to judge? Maybe if I spent more time around him, and we did something ordinary and not as nerve-wrecking, like seeing a movie, I'd feel more comfortable around him? He did give me his number, and no doubt, he was expecting me to call one day.

I checked my wrist-watch, just to make sure what the time is. Already, it was ten-thirty. Would it be considered rude to call somebody at this hour? Maybe he'd already be sleeping? I didn't exactly want to wake him. After a while of uncertainty, I just decided to bite the bullet and call him anyway. What's the worst that can possibly happen? With shaky fingers, I got out his number and punched it into the telephone. Taking in a deep breath to steady myself, I was completely shocked that it took hardly a second's worth of ringing for him to pick up.

"Sookie?" Was his greeting. His voice sounded all breathless, like he was in the middle of exercising or something.

It completely took the words out of my mouth. And all coherency along with it. How did he possibly know I would be calling? Or maybe he was just expecting it all along, and automatically answered that way? Very weird. I shook my head a bit to clear my thoughts, and took in another deep breath.

"Um, yeah. Hi. This is Sookie. Hello there."

"I was wondering when I would be hearing from you. Is there something I can do for you?"

Great question. "Um, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to, um, go to the movies some time?"

There was an excruciatingly long silence on his end of the line. I was presuming I had gotten him speechless. For a second, I was starting to think the phone had cut off, because it was so quiet and I couldn't even hear him breathing no less. But then, he said, "With you?"

"Um, yeah." I laughed out loud nervously. "Or were you maybe hoping I meant Gran, or Jason?"

"Jason?" He sounded completely confused.

I wracked my brains, and realized I hadn't even introduced them tonight. How rude of me. "Oh, yeah. Jason's my brother. That weird boy in the house tonight, who was wearing just his socks and boxer shorts, and was watching a football game on really, really loud volume."

"Oh, he's your brother? For some reason, I assumed he was your boyfriend." He sounded relieved, I think.

"Oh, gross. Even having you think that is just plain yuck." I shuddered, then realized how much easier it was to be myself around him on the telephone. Suddenly, it wasn't so nerve-wracking. It took me half a minute to get my brain back into gear. "So, movie? With me?"

"When?" Was that a yes or a big, fat no?

"Uh, I don't know. I mean, I'm free tomorrow? I don't know if you are, but... I am?"

"Yes. Tomorrow sounds excellent."

Instant weight lifted off my back. "Great. Um, well. Should I meet you there, or-"

"I can definitely come pick you up?"

"Sure. That'd be... nice, and you already know where I live, so..." I trailed off hesitantly. Do I hang up now, or what?

"Yes, I do. I won't forget it."

"All right. Cool. Well, I guess it's... goodnight, then?"

"I guess so. Pick you up at around seven in the evening?"

"Yes, that time works for me." I sounded so breathless and embarrassed. It was terrible. "See you then." And at that, I hung up briskly, with not really wanting to make anymore of a fool of myself than I already was. God, I felt like such an idiot sometimes.

* * *

I realized my Grandmother was probably right. I would try to refrain from making any sort of judgments. I would assess our first date, and see how it went. And it would have probably made its mark in the Guinness Book of World Record's for most horrible date ever.

My date had no problem with punctuality. He arrived earlier than the time we had planned. I guessed he was just excited, and seeing the car he arrived to pick me up in, I thought, it was probably going to turn out to be a great date.

I whistled through my teeth. "That's your car?" I didn't know shit-all about cars, but there was no denying his was pretty impressive, and fancy. Must have cost him a few heavy pay-packages to afford it. Then again, this was coming from a man who was willing to give me a twenty-four-thousand check.

"Yes," he said proudly. "She's all mine."

He hurried over to open the door for me, which I wasn't expecting. I had to admire it, though. There isn't anything as great as chivalry on a date.

"Uh, thanks," I whispered, feeling stunned. I tried to slide into the seat as graciously as possible- which was no easy feat in the clothes I was wearing, trust me. He closed the door on me once he made sure I was safely inside, and instantly, the whiff of leather hit me. Guess he took real care to make sure his car was spick and span.

Once he saw that I was all buckled up, he did a very swift and clever manoeuvre in reversing the car out of the driveway and out towards Hummingbird Road. I breathed out, slowly and carefully, trying to get a hold on my nerves. Somehow, sitting in a car managed to be even nerve-wracking around him.

"I haven't seen a movie in a while, so I don't know what's playing tonight. Do you?" I asked, trying to be sociable.

"No, I don't. I haven't actually been in a while myself."

It took me a few moments to figure out what to say next. "Have you been in Bon Temps long? I mean, I don't think I've ever seen you around here before?"

He gave me a quick glance and laughed nervously. "No, I'm actually not from around this area. I travel a lot."

"Oh, wow." At least this gave us a few things to talk about. "Have you been travelling much? I haven't even been out of Louisiana before."

"Really? You haven't been out of Louisiana?" He sounded full of disbelief. "That's a shame. You're missing out on a lot of the world, then."

"I know, I guess you're right. We just don't really got the money to travel, though."

"Right." The awkward silence came along again, so I purposefully looked outside the window to distract myself. Pity, it was so dark. I could hardly see anything, and besides, the windows were tinted. We were halfway up the road, when he shifted slightly in his seat. "I was very pleased you ended up calling me. I thought I had maybe scared you off for a moment there by coming on a little too strong."

_A little too strong? Try a lot._

"I know it was a bit silly to ask you to go out to the movies. I just... thought that was what people do, as far as first dates go, to get to know one another. I know it isn't something all that fun." I was totally babbling, so I clasped my hands in my lap and fixed my eyes on them. I forced myself not to speak so much. It didn't seem he minded anyhow.

"No, not at all. It wasn't silly. It's just been... an incredibly long time since I've seen a movie." He sounded, oddly enough, embarrassed to admit that.

The conversations rolled in fairly easily after that. I found small talk was something easy to do around him in a darkly lit car. I didn't feel so... anxious and creeped out all that much. I was looking out for that one thing he admitted to that would make me instantly think I never wanted to see him ever again. Strangely enough, it didn't come. I learned he loved to travel and that his ultimate favourite place was Sweden. He also had mastered a few languages too, which was pretty impressive of him. He didn't mention anything about me being his wife, or marriage, so that pretty much relieved me to no end and spared any awkwardness.

We found out the only movie playing at the picture show that was even remotely interesting sounding, was Star Trek: Into Darkness. I'm not even a science-fiction buff, but it kept me engrossed. As for him, I couldn't decipher whether he was interested in anything happening on the screen or not. I kept catching him looking my way more times than I could count, and every time I asked him if he wanted some popcorn, he would toss his head like my asking was so ridiculous. There was a part in the film, near the end, where he reached over my seat with his arm and clasped onto my hand. It was the only attempt to touch me that he made, luckily. Well, with the exception of when the movie finished and the credits were rolling. We got to our feet, and he actually took hold of my hand. It was like he refused to let go.

"Well, that was fun," I said, just for the sake of saying something, once we got out of the building. "The movie was very... interesting, and I'm not even a Star Trek fan."

"Interesting?" He clearly didn't think so. "I don't know what you were watching, but the person sitting next to me was far more interesting to look at than that screen." _And, there he goes..._

I smiled, a bit on the self-conscious side.

"You want to get something to eat?" he asked, pulling on my hand a bit.

"Do I?" I patted my stomach. "Definitely not. I ate a whole thing of popcorn, whereas you didn't eat a single mouthful!"

"That isn't the type of thing I'm interested in eating," he said underneath his breath, and he got the most oddest expression on his face as he looked down at me. And he made it real obvious just what seemed appetizing to him, in the way his eyes ran down my body, in a very slow and heated way. I felt colour instantly flood my cheeks.

"That is disgusting," I laughed, pretending to be more insulted than I truly was.

"Oh, really? What is disgusting about that?" He looked me dead-on in the eyes to tell me he was being completely serious. My face felt absolutely lobster red. No one had ever said something so rude to me before. "I think you would make a wonderful meal." He leaned down slowly towards my face, and I knew his intentions, and it made me uncomfortable, so I stepped back a bit before he could do anything. He gave out a long sigh and tore his eyes away from me. He squeezed my hand, in an almost remorseful way. "I apologize if I make you uncomfortable."

"Well, you definitely do," I confessed, pretty much stating the obvious.

"I don't mean to, really." He met my eyes again, and he looked sincerely contrite. "And, although you ate all that popcorn, I would still really like for you to consider my offer."

"Offer?" I repeated dubiously. "Is that what you call it?"

"You didn't take my check," he pointed out, eyeing me speculatively. It was true; I didn't. I absolutely refused to.

"Well, of course I didn't. I don't know you, and I'm not about to just accept money from somebody I don't know! I don't need your money, and you can't expect to buy me off, like some object!"

"That wasn't my intention to make you feel like that." He glanced away from me and I could tell he was gritting his teeth. There was a hard glint to his eyes. "I only just wanted to... illustrate that I am capable of taking care of you. I never meant for you to feel otherwise. I apologize again."

"Take care of me? What, so you think I'm some kind of charity case? That I can't make my own money?"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you. I thought tonight was all about getting to know each other?"

"Exactly," I hissed, furious. "We're already arguing with each other! So, why the hell would I want to be your wife?"

I had clearly pushed his buttons enough. He scoffed really loud, and pressed a tight fist to his mouth, as if to refrain himself from saying something really mean. "You're lucky I like your fire," he said, after a moment bitterly.

"Excuse me?" Yeah, this was really turning out to be the worst. "My _fire_?"

"Listen, I don't exactly want to make a scene in the street." He started talking to me slowly and quietly, as though I was a child. "Would you like something to eat or not?"

"No, I don't!" My voice came out way louder than I expected, alarming us both.

"In that case, I'll take you back home. But if something happens on the way back from here to there, you can't hold me responsible." I stared at him in outrage, and he stared back silently with some unfathomable emotion I couldn't grasp. Anger, probably. Murderous rage. Was he going to kill me on the ride home? Is that what he meant? Lash out on me?

"What? You'll murder me or something?" I asked, with full sincerity.

And then, he threw his head back and laughed. A scornful, mean laugh. He dragged me to the door of his car, and I knew then that the night was officially over. And thank goodness for that. I would have been none the more happier never having to see him ever again for the rest of my life.

"This close," he warned, shaking his head and lifting his hand to make a point of it. "This close to making me do something I will majorly regret!"

"What? Hit me with your hand?"

"Oh, worse than that." He looked around us suddenly to see who standing around his car, and then, completely winding me, he abruptly pushed me up against the side of his car and grabbed my face between his hands, pulling it up roughly. And then his mouth was on mine, kissing me ardently, angrily. It was the very last thing I was expecting, and I gasped in shock, which only made it easier for him to kiss me with even more enthusiasm. I guessed anger was his motivator. I lunged to get him off me with all my might, and he staggered back, panting, as the kiss was broken.

"Don't you dare do that to me ever again," I whispered fearfully, and then I was off like a rocket down the street, clutching my mouth. I heard him call my names a few times, but I ignored him, and happily. I started walking on my own home, without really caring where I was going. At least now I had an excuse, a more bigger reason not to see him ever again. Pushy creep.

While I was halfway through wondering what street I was in, I was vaguely aware of a car tailing me. And then someone was going crazy blaring a horn at me, so the worry left me because I knew it was only him. At least, it was him, and if I so-happened to go missing, Gran would know instantly that he was behind it. I began quickening my steps furiously, but when he rammed the car half a width near my ankle over the curb, I sort of surrendered.

"Go away," I screeched, without looking. "You creep!"

"Get in the car, Sookie." He was trying to sound calm and as if he was the reasonable one here. "I brought you here, and I'm taking you back. You think I'd let you walk home on your fucking own? Get in!"

"Piss off!"

"This is insanity. Just get in."

"Piss off, I said!"

"You're acting this way, all because I simply kissed you?"

"Kissed me?" I turned to look at him through the window furiously. "More like full-on assaulted me!"

"Well, if that's truly the way you see it, then I apologize for kissing you. I won't do it again. My mouth won't even go near you, if that's any consolation to you, much as I regret that, because I would very much like to do it again."

"Damn right," I seethed. "Your mouth is never going anywhere on me, you hear?"

"Jesus. Will you just get in?"

"Fine," I huffed, and tried my very hardest to ignore him as I climbed in. He didn't make it easy, though; He tried to touch my leg, maybe as a way to comfort me. It was the very last thing I wanted from him right now.

"I apologize," he said, and he repeated it roughly around twenty times all the way to Gran's. At least, he truly sounded guilty over it. But twenty times was a little excessive, not to mention annoying.

"All right! You're sorry! I get that!"

Once he pulled up into my Grandmother's driveway, he tried another tactic, one that I really didn't want to have to hear.

"I've never felt this way before. I don't know what overcame me back there, but I guess... I was angry and..." He paused for a moment, grasping for the right word. "All I can say, is that I like your fire. I find you incredibly sexy, and it stirs an... emotional reaction out of me that I never-"

I'd definitely heard enough. With fury, I pulled myself out of his car and made sure to slam the door extra loudly in his face, hoping it would well and truly send the message across. It didn't. I don't really think it was the way he kissed me that had me scared off the most. It was my bodies reaction to it. I was mostly ashamed with myself, because maybe, deep down, I enjoyed it. Maybe. And that was extremely hard to admit to myself.

**Thanks to you all for being so nice :) Please feel free to leave a review and let me know your thoughts I do love reading them!**


	5. Seduction Games

**I want to thank you all for being so nice, with your alerts and reviews. You guy's rock. I had trouble with remembering my password for a bit there, so my apologies for leaving you people hanging for too long. Hope this makes up for it ;)**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Eric Northman is a pushy pig," I informed my Grandmother, the instance I got inside. My Grandmother had made herself at home on the sofa in her nightgown and slippers, with a cup of tea and a few sugary biscuits to nibble on indulgently. I slumped down on the sofa beside her, and she almost spilled her tea all over herself.

"Is he, honey?"

"He is, and I don't mean in a 'oink, oink' type of way. I mean that he is pushy, arrogant, and aggressive. He literally molested my mouth with his."

"Wow."

"I know, right? He must be desperate to want me as his wife so badly. I don't even know why I even bothered going out with him tonight, Gran. I should have listened to my first instincts that told me he was a weirdo."

"This tea is delicious. You should go off and make yourself one to soothe yourself. It always helps me."

"Do you know how I felt tonight, Gran? Do you know what he did?"

So I told Gran all about it.

My Grandmother was an excellent listener. She hummed in all the right places, and she didn't even try to force unwanted advise onto me. She just sipped on her tea, nibbled on her sugary biscuits, and let me rant and rave forever.

"Don't let me see him ever again, all right?" I told her, once I was finished. "I couldn't stand it. Especially not when he forced a kiss onto me, you know? Did Grandpa ever do that to you?"

"Do what, honey?"

"You know," I beckoned, feeling suddenly shy and awkward, "Forced his mouth onto you in the heat of anger?"

I looked at her carefully, waiting for her response, and caught her shiver almost dreamily.

"He didn't. He was always gentle and kind towards me. He never forced me into doing things I didn't want to do." She paused thoughtfully, and laughed to herself. "Then again, he stole a lot of kisses when he was being mischievous and cheeky with me. I wouldn't call it being forceful, though. I enjoyed the attention."

"Well, I didn't." Yes, I did. I liked the way he kissed me. I didn't like having to acknowledge that, though. Who likes being kissed by a man who is virtually a stranger to them? "I don't. He's an absolute pig." And so, I kept on telling myself that.

* * *

Next Sunday, in the Church hall, we were having a celebratory function. Everybody dressed up immaculately in their best clothes, and gathered in the hall for song and dance.

When I glanced around the hall and saw Pushy Mouth Molester Eric Northman standing around watching some of the ladies from church shake it curiously, I wanted to tear my hair out with rage. Of course I didn't, because I had spent over half an hour fixing it up for the occasion. I still wanted to, though. I think I was about the only person that wasn't dancing. My Grandmother was having a blast with Maxine Fortenberry, and they were dancing around in an invisible circle, gleeful and laughing.

As for myself, I was hardly in the mood for dancing. And also, now that I knew Eric Northman was in the room, I felt extremely bitter. Our date together- if it was even that- had gone terrible. I was resolved to ignore him for good, and hopefully he would get the hint and back-off. I guess that was just wishful thinking, though. Because when I let myself steal a look over at him, he wasn't there anymore.

No, Eric Northman stood in front of me.

"Oh, great," I huffed sardonically, "My pushy stalkers here. Wonderful."

"Your Grandmother's really getting into the groove," he commented, jerking his shoulder into her area.

"Yes, she is," I muttered shortly.

"Why aren't you?"

"Isn't that obvious?" I replied, not daring to look at him.

"Not really. I'm sure you have the moves, though." I could feel him staring at me.

"I'm a pretty good dancer, if I do say so myself," I admitted proudly. "But my moves are not anything you are ever going to see anytime soon. Especially not after that horrendous night, where you assaulted me in the parking-lot of the cinema."

"I can be very persistent, Miss. Fiery."

"Hmmm, yeah. I already worked that out, believe me. You can be as persistent as a genital rash that refuses to go away and leaves burning, excruciating after-effects every time you piddle."

He laughed at that, much to my displeasure. I really hadn't said it to be funny. It was meant to be more of an insult type of thing.

"May we?"

I tilted my head in his direction blankly. He held out a hand to me, his fingers splayed open and waiting. "May we what?" I gave his hand a filthy look, as though it was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

"May we dance together, Miss. Fiery?"

"No, we may not."

"Too bad." I learned quickly that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He grabbed my hand, and towed me towards where everybody else in the church hall was boogying. I made sure I didn't look at him when he placed one hand on my shoulder, and wrapped his other hand around my back, pulling me in. We fumbled around a bit, stepping on each other's shoes, until we settled into a more comfortable and easy rhythm to the music. When a less grooving song started playing, a slow rather romantic and heavenly song on the piano and accordion, I grew even more persistent to avoid looking him directly in the face. I ended up looking straight past my shoulder into another direction.

It turned out it was far too obvious that I was purposefully avoiding him outright, because he took my chin in his hand and brought my eyes forward to his face. "You know, that's kind of rude," he muttered, "You should at least look at your dancing partner, when you dance, Miss. Fiery. It's a rule that shouldn't be broken."

Yep. He was pushy indeed.

"Oh, excuse me for being so rude," I retorted underneath my breath insincerely.

Since I had no choice, I really took the moment to look at him. And by look at him, I mean really scrutinize in a condescending way. He definitely wasn't that bad-looking. I supposed that could minimally pardon the fact he was pushy, annoying, and a bit of a stalker. I tried to decide what colour his eyes were. They looked equally on the grey and green side. His eyes were rimmed with redness. Blanched skin like he avoided the sun like a plague. Light dusting of stubble around his chin and upper lip. Nicely curved lips, a fleshy pink that made them stand out against his pallid skin. I thought he knew where I was looking, because he parted said lips, showing some teeth, and licked them next, as if they were dry from my ogling.

So, he was very easy on the eyes. I just couldn't figure out why he would want someone like me as his wife. You can still get mail order brides nowadays, can't you?

After a few seconds, I gave up my internal debate, feeling foolish. What should I even really care?

"Turn around," he ordered softly, leaning in to me and speaking over the music.

"What?" I asked, completely perplexed. "Why?"

"The zipper on the back of your dress has come undone," he explained, causing me to panic.

"Oh, has it?" Weird. I was positive I had that little tyke firmly clasped up good.

I turned around immediately, no hesitation, gathering all my long blonde hair into my hands and pushing it over to one side, so he could redo it up for me easily without it getting caught. I felt my dress move as he pulled up the zipper, slowly and carefully with care, and then my breath caught as I felt him move up behind me. Very closely behind me, mind you. He put his hands on my hips and he ran his nose up my exposed neck, inhaling in my skin, I thought. I wasn't wearing any perfume, so that was a bit iffy. I felt the muscles in my belly clench, when he dragged his nose up all the way to my ear.

"You smell divine," he whispered, in a scratchy, gruff voice. He placed a soft kiss below my ear, and hating myself for it, I accidentally moaned. He had me flustered, big time. And I absolutely hated it. I wasn't meant to feel warm all over by it. I was meant to feel icky and grossed-out, because the situation he had placed me in, what with wanting me as his wife, was anything but normal. In my view, at least.

"Uh, thanks?"

Then he opened his mouth, and ostentatiously clicked his teeth together loudly, imitating biting down onto something. "Edible," he whispered. Um, okay. _That's not creepy at all._

Eager to get away, I turned around, rather clumsily. A trace of a smile curled the corner of his lips and his eyes burned into mine.

Hastily, I excused myself, without really knowing where my feet were taking me, or where exactly it was I was intending to go. I guess I knew where I wanted to go, and that was anywhere he wasn't. My legs took me out into the yard of the church, and I leaned against the brick wall, fanning my face a bit with my hands. It wasn't really a very hot morning, so the weather definitely didn't play any part in my flustered state.

Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me?

"Everything all right?"

I tried not to yip loudly, when I heard his voice come from right behind me. I turned on my side to steal a quick peek up at his face. His eyes were on me, assessing me. He had followed me out, my faithful stalker. Wonderful.

"I'm just wonderful," I muttered, intentionally making my voice sound bright and carefree. It was a lie and a half.

"I get your game," he said softly.

"Excuse me?" I blinked up at him, confused. "Game? What game?"

He leaned against the wall near me. I shuffled back a few steps. "Yes, game," he went on confidently. "This is the part where you excuse yourself, and I follow you outside, where we're alone with no one watching over us. It's the perfect moment."

"What?" I asked, clueless. I was staring at his shirt.

"Anything could happen at this moment in time." Kicking off the wall, he started walking over to the other side of me. Absently I was reminded of a predatory cat circling its prey. "No one is around. No one would ever hear us."

My eyes flew up to meet his.

"I could do anything to you," he continued, unable to hide a smile. "Absolutely anything."

My heart started pounding.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "You are utterly defenceless, and trapped. What will you do now, Miss. Fiery?"

"Piss off," I said through my teeth.

"Yes, that's right, isn't it?" He was mocking me. Teasing me. "Give me some of your fire, as I do enjoy it."

"You disgust me," I mumbled, not entirely being all that sincere. "Plus, you have cheap moral standards. Trying to pick up a girl at Church, like you did last week? Forcing your mouth onto me?" I scoffed. "Well, hey. That's just low."

"I don't disgust you," he said, sounding so convinced.

"Yeah, you actually do," I insisted, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his defiantly.

"I don't. I know that I don't, I know you feel something contrary to disgust. Want to know how I know that?"

"You might as well," I muttered. "It'll just only confirm to me that my opinion on you was correct. You are blind, and... strange."

"You feel... quite the opposite of disgust to me." His hands reached out to grab my hips, and they smoothed and shaped down the sides of my dress; his fingers gliding and going lower around to my butt. I caught my breath. His whispered voice was so confident, so sure. "You feel as though you would be betraying yourself, and your own free will, if you agreed to my offer..." My body felt all warm and tingling, brought on by his voice, his words, his hands touching. Particularly in odd, southern places. "What is the worst that can happen?" His hands grazed back around to the front of my dress, and one hand moved down... down. Two fingers glided over the skin of my right thigh, alarming me. "I would be utterly, utterly devoted to you."

I swallowed dryly. My voice wouldn't seem to work. I couldn't find it whatsoever. My tongue felt dry and slack, and there was a funny taste in my mouth. Because as his hand went up underneath the end of my dress, he brought it up so suddenly, his hand cupped my sex over the thin fabric of my underwear. The fabric was, unfortunately for me, that light that I felt full-effect as the tips of his fingers stroked me through it. I clamped my lips together tightly, trying not to make any noise whatsoever to encourage him.

"Excuse me," I whispered politely, despite everything. I slapped his hand away, yanked him into the wall by the wrist, and stumbled back inside.


	6. Giving In

**Thank you all so so much for your reviews and alerts on the story. They made my day, and you all rock! Warning: This one has a rather sexual scene happening at the end haha. Hoping it isn't terrible! Feel free to let me know!**

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_**Chapter Six**_

My shift at Merlotte's was turning out to be a pretty hectic start to the night.

Because it was the start of the week, we were besieged with customers. Whoever thought of situating a bar on one of the busiest roads in Bon Temps sure was smart, because we tended to draw in a lot of customers. I had been working at Merlotte's Bar and Grill for a little over eight months now. The pay wasn't all that great, but I was pleased I had somewhere to go to spend my days. The hours seemed to fly by whenever you were working.

The uniform we had to wear was a little boring, too; Black shorts, a white T-shirt with the green Merlotte's emblem on the left breast, and white shoes. The best thing about working as a waitress at Merlotte's, I thought, was that whenever we got tipped, we got to keep it. That certainly made the job far more worthwhile, although the tips weren't anything all that substantial, because half the customers were cheap and tight with their hard-earned money.

My boss, Sam, was in a foul mood tonight, and it was stiflingly hot every time I had to pass the kitchen to relay orders to Lafayette, the short-order cook. There wasn't many people working this afternoon; There was Tara, my best friend, who didn't cope well under the pressure. Then there was Arlene, who was years older than me, and she was dating another short-order cook, Terry, who helped Lafayette manage the kitchen. Despite the vibes my boss and Tara were sending off, all the customers looked as if they were having a great time.

I was just sending a pitcher of beer to a table ceremoniously, when the door opened, and my stalker came in.

If the start of the night was stiflingly hot, he was about to make it all the more stifling. I couldn't believe the gall he had to show up at my work, of all places. I consider grabbing the pitcher of beer off the table and throwing it right in his face, although something told me it wouldn't be good customer service, and my boss, Sam, wouldn't have been impressed.

I could feel myself tensing up horribly with his entrance into the bar. Still, I put on my best working face and got to it. I turned around on my heel, ignoring him with vigour, and went around the counter to where Tara was, managing the alcoholic drinks. I kept my eye on him through, as he got seated at a table that unfortunately so happened to be in _my_ area. It meant I had no other choice but to suck it up and serve him.

"You got yourself a new customer, Sookie," my boss informed me unnecessarily over his shoulder.

"I'm right on it, Sam," I said brusquely, straightening up my pony-tail and grabbing my pad and pencil. _Right on telling him to leave. _Placing a stiff smile on my lips and relaxing my shoulders, I crossed over towards where he was sitting. He was currently looking over the menu, with exaggerated curiosity, it seemed to me. I knew he wasn't here to order anything. Just my luck, he was here to see me. "Good evening," I greeted, a bit on the frosty side. "What can I get you?"

Honestly, I just didn't know how to talk to him, let alone how to react, after that incident at Church with him touching me underneath my dress. I'll be the first to admit that no one has ever touched me that way before, and what disturbed me the most, was how worked-up it got me. I wanted to be in firm control of my feelings; I didn't want to have feelings, definitely not for him. But with the way he had followed me out from Church and said all those things to me, touched me up against the wall... my firm grasp on them had gone completely down the drain. I had rather enjoyed him touching me, exactly in the same way that I had somewhat enjoyed him kissing me up against his car when we went out on that date that night. And I didn't like that I did. I didn't want to enjoy it, but I just did, and what made it a billion times worse was that I couldn't understand why I enjoyed it. It was downright confusing.

His words might have also hit home to me:

_"You feel as though you would be betraying yourself, and your own free will, if you agreed to my offer..."_ It was true, and very perceptive of him. I hadn't known I was that obvious.

He glanced up from the menu quickly, and I found myself staring into his eyes. "Miss. Fiery. What a pleasant surprise, seeing you here."

"I'm sure you knew I worked here," was all I could manage, in a nervous and irritatingly breathless voice. "What can I get you?" My voice wavered on me and broke, failing me, and I hated the sound of it. God, I sounded so pathetic.

"Actually, I came to see you." _Clearly._ "Have you worked here long?" He ran his eyes over my face and down my uniform. I looked at the notepad I was clutching in my hands quickly to give myself some needed courage.

_None of your beeswax,_ I thought to myself, but I didn't say it out-loud out of fear Sam would overhear me. Instead, I said, more politely, "A few months. Why?" I brought my eyes back to him apprehensively. He was now grinning.

"Just out of plain curiosity, I guess."

_Plain curiosity, my behind. _

"Let me guess: You're going to start appearing here every time I work, aren't you?"

He decided to ignore that remark, with ease. He leaned forward in the seat, and his lips parted, as if he was inhaling in a quiet breath to calm himself. "When does your shift finish for the night?"

I glanced behind my shoulder over at the clock hanging up on the wall above the counter of the bar, wondering whether I ought to tell him the truth or not. "In half an hour," I admitted, too late, and too much of a good girl to lie. I glanced back down at him again, and really wished I hadn't. He was staring at me far too carefully, intently, with a small grin twisting his lips, as though he had won a prize.

"Excellent," he breathed. "Half an hour, it is. I will see you then." His tone left no room for discussion. Just as I had found my voice, and was about to make verbal my outrage, he stood from the chair and slipped out from the table. He was about to leave, when he paused and turned back to look at me. "Oh- and Sookie, I am very, very much looking forward to it." His voice went all husky and deep with satisfaction or pride, heaven knows what, and then... there I stood idiotically, watching after him as he left the bar.

I couldn't think of any single way to get out of it- and even if I had, he was already gone before I even so much as had the chance- so I gave up, slumping against the empty table he had just vacated in defeat.

I admitted it to myself then, though not willingly. All right, all right. So _maybe_ I liked him. But also, at the same time, this entire thing was freaky to me. This man just pops up practically out of nowhere, sees me once at Church, then it sets into motion all this suddenness? He doesn't even know me! I don't know him! So, why is this man all of a sudden interested in me and attempting to win me over at every chance? It just didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.

"Ooh, who was that fella?" Arlene asked with interest, once I got back to the bar.

"No one," I answered shortly, hoping to sound disinterested.

"He was very good-looking, honey. He seemed real keen on you, too."

"Did he really?" I asked, pretending not to notice despite the fact I have. He made it real obvious, time and time again. And maybe I enjoyed the attention and was flattered by it on some deep, internal level.

"Yep, he did. Are you seeing him?"

"No, Arlene, I'm not," I said, embarrassed.

"Well, maybe you should think about it, huh?"

I ignored her, and kept myself busy for the half an hour I had left at work. Sam reminded me I had to leave, which irritated me, because I truly wished I could have stayed in-doors at Merlotte's a little bit later. I didn't want to head outside, out of fear he would turn up again. Tara and I finished our shift at the same time, and she asked if I needed a lift home. We got out into the parking lot together, and I was about to agree on it, when I saw him. He was waiting by his fancy car, his arms crossed over his chest.

"How about we go for a ride?" he called over to me, and I glanced anxiously at Tara. She gave me a questioning look, arching her eyebrows as if to ask, _who is that guy_? and I shrugged in response.

"Guess I won't be needing that lift home after all," I muttered to her underneath my breath glumly.

"Yeah, guess not. Be safe, Sook. See you tomorrow."

It took me a moment to realize what she meant by that. _Be safe. Yeah, yeah. Dream on. _

"Drive home safely, Tara," I reminded her, hugging her tightly.

"Yeah, yeah. Will do, Sook." She leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Look, I don't know what's going on or what that guy's deal is, but please, you be careful now. Something doesn't look right with him."

"You're telling me," I whispered back, pleased I had someone who matched my sentiments on the man.

"See ya." With that, she released me, a bit hesitantly. She looked over at Eric Northman again, and I could tell she was sizing him up. I saw him smile at her pleasantly and send a curt nod her way.

It was a bit frosty out tonight, so I wrapped my arms over my stomach as I started approaching him, shivering in my uniform all the way down to my ankle socks. He straightened up off his car without a word, and turned to open the passenger's side of his car for me. Chivalry once again exists with the man. Who ever thought it was dead, in this day and age? I watched him nervously as he closed the door on me, and started over the front of his car to the driver's side, wondering what he had in-store with seeing me tonight. Apparently he didn't know the answer to that himself, because as he got in, and we buckled ourselves up, he turned to me in the seat. He was drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel.

"Is there anything you would like to do, Miss. Fiery?"

"Not really. You?"

"How about I show you my apartment?" he suggested, quite casually. I thought about that for a moment. If I said yes, who knows what would happen? Did I really want to be alone with him in his house?

Against my better judgment, I whispered, "Fine, I guess that would be nice." And so it was settled, right then and there.

I really didn't know what I was thinking. I had a bad feeling about it, when he started his car and we drove in silence for what seemed a little over a fifteen minute ride. My Grandmother used to always tell me to never enter a person's home, unless you knew them well. What was I getting myself into, in agreeing? Or perhaps I really should give the man the benefit of the doubt? He really wasn't that bad, aside from a few eccentric quirks, right?

I peeked over at him as we continued driving onwards. His face was illuminated slightly in the glare of the headlights coming from ongoing traffic. He looked as if he was biting the inside of his cheek. Without warning, he glanced at me, and I felt suddenly red as a lobster, as though I had been caught-out on doing something bad. Quickly, I glanced down at my hands that were folded in my lap.

My Grandmother had also said that the best way to get to know someone, was to see how their house looked. If it was messy, it showed that the person was unorganized in most aspects of their life. If too bare and minimalistic with the furnishings, it apparently meant they didn't value materialistic things. Well, that was according to my Grandmother anyhow. We came to a stop at a dimly lit house, and he took a quick swerve into a driveway. He cut off the engine, grinned at me in a way that told me he was just as nervous as I was, and then he unbuckled his seat belt and ducked out of his car, being as tall as he was. When he came over to my side of the car, he opened the door for me again.

"Thanks," I muttered, climbing out a bit awkwardly.

I hadn't ever been inside a man's house before. I was a bit shocked when he put his arm around my waist, and started walking towards the front door, guiding me. I had to fight back the urge I had to squirm over it.

Moments later, we were inside Eric Northman's house. I didn't even know where to start, on what my Grandmother often said, into decoding what this meant about his personality. There was an unbelievably huge fluffy brown rug on the floor that had me wondering whether it belonged to the fur of a bear. There were odd paintings on the white walls- and one had a rather startling picture of a naked woman with scarlet red blood dripping down her neck. On another painting, it looked like a gruesome battlefield with bodies strewn out over a long stretch of land. Rather creepy stuff. Why on earth would someone want to have all these pictures on their walls? I wondered, spooked.

He led me into another room, which I realized was the living room. There was a big flat-screen T.V that would have put my Grandmother's old and ancient one to shame at home. There was a blood-red U-shaped vinyl sofa, and another rug rolled out on the floor beside it. Hell, he even had a huge glass cabinet on one side of the wall, with various objects locked inside.

"I'm going to have a drink. Would you like something?"

_Chivalry._

"Sure," I agreed, shrugging. I thought since I was already here, why the hell not?

"I'll be right back with that." He left me alone in his strange house, which left me to pry into his possessions without him noticing. I walked over to the glass cabinet, taking it all in. He had a weird little blade in there, that looked old as sin. There was even a small drinking goblet, gold-plated, with odd little carvings and signs on it. How on earth did he get all these things? Why did he collect them for?

It almost felt as if I was in a museum, and not a man's house.

"Here, you are." I hadn't even noticed him returning, and I almost jumped in alarm. He was standing right behind me, holding two glasses filled with what looked like red wine. I wasn't much of a drinker at all. In fact, I never went much on alcohol. I'd heard it can give you confidence, and can curb your nerves though; Which was exactly what I was needing, who was I kidding?

Evidently he had no problem with underage drinking.

"Oh, thanks." I took the glass from him, and took a small, experimental sip. It actually tasted rather nice. It was a sweet wine. Not at all bitter.

He walked over to the large, deep-red couch, and set his glass down on the small table near it. Then he started slowly unbuttoning his jacket. I tried not to notice and pay too much attention, and failed. Holding my eyes and not leaving them once, he threw his jacket down on the rug carelessly. I took in another slurp of the wine.

He sat down on the couch next, and reached over for his glass. He took a long drink, his eyes still not leaving me. Then he sat it back down without breaking the look, and licked his lips. Why did he have to stare? Jesus Christ. "You can sit with me," he said, patting the space beside him gently. "I won't bite."

"All right, then. Maybe I will." Making sure not to spill my wine, I sat down carefully, though I made sure there was a considerable amount of distance between us to keep myself safe. I could feel his eyes burning into me as I looked around his living room again.

"As you can see for yourself, this is my apartment," he pointed out quietly, like he believed I didn't have the wits on me to figure that out for myself. "This is where I live."

"Yes, I can see that. It's a very nice place you've got here."

I looked over at him. He seemed like he was floating on cloud nine over my approval; His nostrils flared with pride, and he smiled broadly at me from where I sat.

"I was hoping we would be able to talk in privacy," he said, sounding nervous.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Much to my dismay, he scooted over on the sofa, until our legs were touching. He placed a hand on top of my kneecap closest to him. I didn't even have the time to prepare myself, and I think I about jolted a millimetre up in the air out of equal shock and discomfort. "You are very jumpy," he whispered, gazing down at me. Our faces were pretty close, and I couldn't say I liked it very much.

"I'm sorry, but I... I don't enjoy you touching me like this." I looked at his hand pointedly to get the message across more strongly. He bit his bottom lip, and brought his hand away, settling it back more modestly onto his own kneecap. Relief soared within me. He looked a bit deflated in me saying that; His expression and reaction to it said it all.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" It wasn't a question; More of a hard, firm statement.

I shrugged and looked down at my glass of red wine.

"It is very unfortunate that you do feel that way," he continued, his voice soft and quiet. "I can see that you feel guarded around me, and mistrusting. Whatever wicked intentions you feel I have concerning you, you're wrong." He leaned forward a fraction on the sofa to meet my eyes to show me he had meant it. He sighed loudly, puffing out his cheeks. "Hopefully, in time, if you will let me... I will be able to show you that. But it is impossible if you won't let yourself open up to me." I took a hasty sip of my drink, feeling guilty, knowing he was right. He was very perceptive. I was afraid to open up to him, for reasons I couldn't quite understand myself. "Like I said... I won't bite." He smiled at me, humour twinkling away in his eyes. "But you've just got to let me in. I won't hurt you, and you know that yourself. Otherwise, why else would you have agreed to come here to my apartment, all alone, where fuck-all could happen between us?"

Sitting up and shifting a bit on the couch, he took my glass out of my fingers and leaned down to place it on the rug at his feet. He then leaned in towards my face, and I knew what he was intending to do. He was going to kiss me, and I watched as he closed his eyes slowly and came in even closer and closer. But I couldn't move away, there was nowhere else to go anyway. And maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to move away. He kissed me, and his lips mashed into mine, gentle and slow. I parted my lips, and he took my bottom one in between his, and tugged at it gently. He was an extremely good kisser, more so when he was gentle and sweet about it. Though I felt awkward and uncertain of what to do, I found out a few minutes later that kissing is fairly easy to learn. After a few more minutes, it became almost as natural as breathing, and I grew far more confident with replying to his kiss in earnest. His tongue slid into my mouth, and it felt very strange, but it was a nice and enjoyable type of strange. And then, he broke the kiss, and he fell down onto his knees in front of me. I was already hyperventilating by the time he started kissing around my legs, my thighs.

It was probably the most erotic thing I had ever experienced before; Him, on his knees before me, kissing me across my exposed thighs and legs in my work shorts, down to my knees and all the way back up again, giving out a few heavenly, deep sighs of longing into my skin while he was at it. My entire body felt on fire, and tingling. I was aware of myself panting heavily. For some reason, I found myself wanting to touch him. I was almost aching to touch him, and my hands found his hair. He yanked down my shorts next to my knees, along with my underwear, and I felt my entire face redden with scorching heat. I knew what he was about to do, and it terrified me, because no one had ever done it to me before. I couldn't even remember how this started, but it... just... was. Part of me wanted to push him away, tell him to not do it, but another side of me was aching to experience it, to just let it merely be. The latter side obviously won out, and he started using his tongue to swirl around my clitoris without warning whatsoever. My mouth dropped open with shock at the sudden intrusion to my body, and I had to bite down on my tongue to suppress a cry of surprise over it.

It was torture. Sheer, absolute torture. He wouldn't give up, he just went and went, swirling his tongue, and I felt the entirety of my legs go rigid, and the lower half of my body bowing off the couch. All of a sudden it hit me, this intense wave of glorious feeling, and I cried out a stifled moan of pleasure through my clamped teeth. I knew about orgasms, and I was presuming this was it. My entire body shook around me, it seemed the walls of his apartment were trembling with little earthquakes around me. Putting his hands on either side of my legs, he sat up slowly to look at me.

"How was that?" he asked, sounding very pleased with himself.

All coherency within me... dead and shot to hell.

**Naughty Eric ;) I will go hide in a hole now, and pray all goes well. **


	7. Screwed

**I own nothing to do with True Blood, clearly. Lol.**

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_**Chapter Seven**_

I was panting loudly as if I had only just gotten some sudden vigorous exercise. My heart was pounding in my ears, I couldn't control the light-headedness that swept over me all of a sudden, and along with his words and the way he peered up at me, lifting his head from between my legs, smiling triumphantly like he had only just won a medal, I crumbled and burst without warning. Before I knew it, I was shaking, but not for any good reason. Looking ashamed with himself, he bent over me to help me clumsily in pulling up my underwear and shorts again, assisting me with putting myself back to rights.

I think he could tell by my unexpected burst of reaction that I was having a mental breakdown of some kind.

"Fuck," he breathed nervously, when it slowly dawned onto him my reaction was all tears. I heard him sigh loudly as he got back to his feet. Then he sat down next to me gently on the couch silently, and I felt so ashamed, because the tears wouldn't seem to stop. Last thing I wanted was to seem weak and cry in front of him. I didn't even know why I was crying. I guess I felt overwhelmed by what just happened; I certainly couldn't say I was expecting him to do that anytime soon. I didn't even know men did something like that to women. "Talk to me," he coaxed softly. "Tell me what's wrong here. I never meant to upset you by doing that to you, just then. Believe me; upsetting you was the very last thing I wanted. I only wanted to make you feel good." And he had. He definitely had made me feel good. And that was what was so wrong about it.

I covered my hands over my face so I didn't have to endure looking at him. It was embarrassing. I could feel my hands trembling as I rubbed around my forehead with my fingers, stressed. "I wasn't expecting that," I wailed apprehensively. "It just surprised me. I mean, one moment we were kissing, and then you did... that." I couldn't even begin to find the words to explain.

"You were sexually aroused, just then. It's perfectly natural to enjoy it," he said gently over to me. "Your reaction was completely natural. Most people do enjoy it. I enjoyed it myself. It isn't something to feel embarrassed about."

I let my hands slowly fall from my face to stare at him blankly. He enjoyed it himself? What? I couldn't imagine anyone enjoying doing_ that_ to a person. He reached over and touched my cheek. He licked his lips and ran his thumb over the underneath of my wet and puffy eyelids, willing my tears away.

"You enjoy putting your mouth on somebody so intimately," I murmured flatly. "How can somebody enjoy doing that to another person?" I was royally shocked and filled with disbelief. Peculiarly enough, he looked completely sincere. He even licked around his lips, as if savouring the taste of me _down there_, and shrugged at me unapologetically.

"I did enjoy it, Sookie." There was nothing but absolute sincerity in his eyes and in his expression. "The taste of your cunt, especially."

Giving my shoulders a bit of a shake to get firm grasp onto my emotions, I sat up straighter on his couch, facing him. "You overwhelm me," I confessed almost inaudibly, batting my tears away with my palms quickly.

He seemed surprised by that.

He stared at me, blinking in a somewhat bewildered way. "Well, I'm sorry about that." A nervous, short laugh got caught in his throat. His lips tightened gravely as he looked down into the direction of the rug decorating his floor. "I am not what some may consider a bad man, Miss. Fiery. I hope you will let me show you that, in time. The minute you stop resisting me, the precise instance you yield to me, the happier you will be with me."

I felt terrible all over again for judging him so quickly.

"Eric, I need a drink," a woman's dry voice suddenly called out from somewhere in his apartment, and I gasped, shocked. I had thought we were alone? He lived with someone? Jesus, did she know what he just did to me? A woman came rushing into the room, and she looked roughly around his age, give or take a few years. She was dressed immaculately in a pink suit, consisting of a blouse and ruffled mini-skirt. Her long blond hair was shiny and super straight. "Oh, shit." She stopped stock-still as it occurred to her he wasn't alone and that he had me sitting with him. "Whoops. I didn't realize you had company. My mistake."

She went to leave, but Eric cleared his throat and stopped her. "Pamela, this is Sookie. Sookie, this is my friend Pamela," he introduced us with a nervous edge in his voice, gesturing with his hand over to the woman, then back to me awkwardly.

The woman pursed her bright red lipstick covered lips. It seemed to enhance her pale, clear skin tone. She placed her hands on her lips and looked me up and down. I fought back a nervous wiggle. "_That's_ Sookie?"

"Yes." Eric nodded. "She's Sookie." He sounded a bit annoyed.

Without warning, she broke out into a fluid foreign language. She raised a finger at me and shook it at me as words spewed from her mouth rapidly. I felt rather out-of-place, as I didn't know what she was saying to him. But somehow, she knew all about me. That's Sookie. He had talked to her about me, and according to the way her reaction was to the sight of me, she didn't find me at all like what she was expecting. Eric said something to her in response underneath his breath flawlessly in the language, and then she left to head into another room. The sound of her high heels clicking against the floor trailed her out.

"I'm sorry about all of that, Sookie," Eric said after a moment, slipping effortlessly into English again. "Pamela was meant to be out for the night. I didn't think she would be here. Apparently she doesn't like going out for a drink alone; She prefers me to be with her."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "It's fine. I never understood what either one of you were saying anyway. I don't know any other languages, but English."

Amusement flickered in his eyes. Then he got to his feet. "I'll take you home," he said, sounding as if he was really eager to. So, without another word, I got to my feet. I felt a bit shaken and I staggered a few steps, but I regained my balance quickly. I watched him as he stretched down to grab his glass of red wine. He drained it all in an entire mouthful, and I tried to look reproaching as he placed the then empty glass back onto the small table.

"Alcohol is not very good, when you're planning to drive somebody home," I murmured underneath my breath. "What happens if we get pulled over by the nightly police and they put you under the breathalyser?"

"Ah, but it isn't alcohol," he said with a tiny, mischievous smile.

It threw me off unexpectedly; His answer to that. If it wasn't red wine, what on earth was it? "What is it, then?" I asked suspiciously.

He shook his head gently, as if to dismiss that question. He walked me out of the house again with a hand over my shoulder. He opened the door to his car for me yet again, and closed it up on me. On the drive to my Grandmother's house, it was still and silent. I guess neither one of us knew what to talk about. The silence progressed as we dawdled towards the porch once we arrived home. It was lit, which told me Gran was still awake and waiting on my arrival home. We both turned to look at each other at about the same time, and he stepped a bit closer to me. I knew his intentions at once.

"Goodnight, Sookie," he said, reaching up to push a stray tendril of my hair behind my earlobe that had fallen out-of-place from my tight ponytail. I almost shuddered. Then he bent down and pressed a chaste, soft kiss into my lips. I felt it all the way down to my toes.

"Night, Eric," I whispered back, flushed. He smiled up at me, standing around and waiting, as I stepped up the porch and slipped inside. Closing my eyes tightly, I leaned my forehead against the wood. So much for fighting him off. I was royally screwed.

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**Thank you all so much. You're all really amazing, and you all have encouraged me to update more quickly. :-) Thank you! S****orry if the chapter is really bad :( Argh! Should I probably change the rating to M? It's going to get pretty lemon-filled very soon. :-) Thanks again for reading!**


	8. Heavenly Little Thing

**_Thank you all so so much. Your kind reviews and alerts have encouraged me to continue. I get so anxious to update! Hoping you enjoy this one. _**

**_You guys are amazing! _**

**_P.S: I'm sorry if this chapter is terrible. Still wondering what Eric is? LOL, it's half the fun and adds to the mystery. If you have any suggestions on what you would like to happen, feel free to let me know :) xx_**

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**_Chapter Eight_**

The next night, Eric asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner with him to a restaurant in Shreveport. Gran was ecstatic to hear of it. When someone knocked on the front door, she smiled at me. I quickly rushed to her side and knelt by her chair.

"Gran, please don't make a big deal out of this. It's just dinner."

I knew she didn't believe me. Maybe it was in the way I had prepared myself for the occasion. Okay, so I had spent over twenty-five minutes in the bathroom, and had thrown on my best pair of jeans and a decent shirt and denim jacket to wear over it to keep myself warm. So what? It didn't exactly mean we were eloping together.

We ran into his friend Pam on the street on our way to the restaurant. I was amazed by how wonderful she looked, as if she had just only came from a party. Tonight she was wearing a beautiful red dress which fabric shimmered in the streetlights every various way she turned, with red lipstick and huge red boots to complete the look. A blonde short-haired woman was practically hanging off her arm. She looked way too old to be her friend- not that I'm prejudiced over age or anything like that, of course. Eric excused himself and went off into another direction to stand at a corner with his apartment roommate. He looked rather tense, and angry. Then without warning, he started shouting at her and throwing his hands in the air, while she looked on in silent irritation.

"Don't you go worrying about that, honey," the unknown woman standing with me said, scaring me. "Whoops, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," she added, touching me gently on the arm.

"What's going on?" I whispered, looking at Eric. He looked so angry; it was pretty scary to witness. I certainly wouldn't have liked for him to get angry with me like that.

"Same old thing, darling. You're going to have to get used to it." She laughed nervously underneath her breath. "It's how they communicate. I don't think I've ever heard them talk. Just shout at one another. Eric's real bossy."

"Yeah, I can tell," I muttered.

I looked at Eric again and frowned. He had his hands dangling at his sides in tight fists.

"I ain't never seen Mr. Northman with a girl before," the woman continued, in a voice I thought sounded breathless with envy. She looked me over curiously with her hazel eyes. "You must be one lucky girl."

"Thanks, but right now, I don't very much feel it," I said. "Considering the way he is going off at her like there's no tomorrow." She laughed again at that anxiously.

The shouts abruptly stopped and the two roommates turned silently to look at us. I thought they both looked quite embarrassed. Pamela rushed over to us, silently took the woman's elbow, and steered her off furiously into the opposite direction. The woman peered behind her shoulder and gave me a fleeting glum look. Jeeze, what was that all about? Wow.

I peered over at Eric again. He was shaking his head and staring off into another direction. I reminded myself never to get into his bad books anytime soon. Smoothing out my shirt self-consciously, I made a start towards him. To my surprise, he turned and gave me a strained smile. The anger was still palpable in the air.

"Everything all right?" I asked carefully.

"Everything is just fine." It certainly didn't look that way. He took in a deep breath, and let it all out loudly. He looked very irritated; His forehead scrunched, lips pressed tight in annoyance. "Let's get some dinner."

"Well, all right." It was settled then. Much to my surprise and sort-of delight, he took my hand, clasping it in his, as we walked down the street together. Once we got to the rotating glass doors of the resturant, he released my hand to let me go in first. I tried to hide a smile. Chivalry could almost be considered this odd man's middle name. It was odd. I had been a few meaningless dates, and not once had any of those guy's been as considerate and old-fashioned in the way they handled me; They didn't open doors for me, nor did they allow me entrance first. They didn't dress so formally either, in tailored suits like it was a special occassion to be seen out with me, rather than something informal and casual. It was a rather nice difference that I could quickly recognize and learn to appreciate.

"Choose a table," he said to me. I choose the first one I could find. I slid out of my denim jacket and he took it from me while pushing out my chair for me. Suppressing another astonished smile, I sat, and he draped my jacket behind my chair.

"Would you like a drink to begin with?"

A drink sounded pretty great. So did coffee. "Sure, I'll have, um...- a mocha, with milk. No sugars, thank you."

He raised his eyebrows at me, giving me a funny look.

"I'm a coffee girl at heart," I said, by way of explanation.

He smiled slightly then.

"Of course." He cleared his throat gently, as though something was stuck in it. "Mocha. No sugar. Be right back on that. Anything to eat?"

"I'll just go over the menu now." I hadn't the slightest idea what food they served in this place. I hadn't been to Shreveport in a very long time. Really, I didn't have the need to. Everything important was still at home, in Bon Temps. I surreptitiously watched him as he went to the counter. He was so tall he practically stood out from everybody else. He was an extremely tall man. Broad shouldered, nice to look at. His hair was neat, slick, and combed back for the occasion. He looked amazing in his fancy grey suit, like a movie star heading out to promote his new film. He threw a look over in my direction, and it was really lucky I had enough time to pretend to inspect the menu laying out in front of me.

"That took longer than I thought it would." Eric was back already, and I laughed nervously as I looked up at him. He pulled out his chair and sat across from me. "See anything you like?"

Yeah, you. I shook my head as it occurred to me that he meant as far as the menu goes.

"Nope. Not yet."

A few minutes later a waitress appeared carrying my hot mocha. She set it carefully into the middle of the table. It looked foamy, hot, and delicious. Exactly what I needed.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, peering between us.

"No, we're still looking at the menu, thanks," Eric answered, a bit on the stiff side.

"All right. I'll come over again in a few minutes."

He grunted at her in response, and away she went. I looked up from the menu I was faking reading to find he was staring at me, his head cocked slightly to the side.

"Thanks for the mocha," I said conversationally. "Looks great." I picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the froth. Then I licked it off, and made a small moan, to express it further.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Eric asked, stunning me. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yeah, I am seeing someone. Right now. You."

"Right. Is there anyone else?" His stare held me in. It was almost as if I was some exotic creature he couldn't take his eyes off of. Now all of a sudden I could see why my Granny considered his look romantic. Still, it was disarming and embarrassing.

"I'm really not that kind of girl. I don't date much."

"Why not?"

"Don't know. Don't really care either, to be honest." Dating really wasn't my life's ambition. I wasn't that desperate. "Do you date much?" I asked, returning the question.

"No, I don't," he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine. God, did he even blink? "I haven't in a very, very long time."

"How long is that in years? Be honest here." I was sincerely curious.

He raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider that very seriously. "I would say it has been over five years."

"How old are you?" Oops. Was that rude to just ask that so straightforwardly? I know some men can be touchy on their age.

"Old enough to know better," he said wryly, combing a hand through his hair. There was not a single strand out of place. He said suddenly, "Has anyone done that to you before?"

"Do what?" I asked, confused. I looked down at my coffee as I stirred it.

"Tasted you." I felt myself flare with heat. Was he seriously daring to refer to what he did to me on his couch in public? Good lord.

I took a sip of my coffee to buy myself some time. "No, they haven't," I confessed, breathless. "Wasn't that obvious judging by my embarrassing reaction afterwards?"

"Do you get along with your Grandmother?"

Whoa. What an expert conversation changer.

"Of course, I do. Gran took me and my older brother in when our parent's died. She's amazing." I smiled fondly at the thought of her. "She has done so much. If it wasn't for her, who knows where Jason and I could have ended up?"

"Your parent's died?"

"Yeah, everybody around Bon Temps knows the story." I cringed. I didn't like talking about it much, but he seemed sincerely curious. "They died by a flash-flood. They drowned on the main bride crossing through here."

"Do you miss them?" he asked.

I shrugged and took another sip of my coffee. Of course I did. What ridiculous question was that.

"Tell me more about yourself," I prompted. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Enough with me boring you over my life-story."

He shrugged and looked as if it wasn't something he particularly wanted to talk about. "I had a father, but he's dead now. My mother's dead. My entire family is dead. Not much else to say."

_Whoa. That's a whole lot of death._

"And what about your roomy, Pam?"

"Pam is very... difficult." He laughed softly and irritation sparked in his eyes. "We argue a lot, which no doubt you've picked up from what you saw of us tonight outside earlier. She insists on bringing people home. Men, and women. She can be very noisy."

"She sleeps with them?"

"Yes, among other things."

"What was that language I heard you both talking in before?"

"It's Swedish."

"It sounded as if you're pretty fluent, huh?"

"I was born and raised there. I lived on a farm with my family, before they died."

"What made you decide to move to America?" I asked, interested. "Was it a big change for you?"

"Not particularly," he replied, throwing out another careless shrug. "I did notice, however, that Sweden is a lot more...lenient compared to here. Here, you've got all these rules. No drinking until over twenty-one. No weed. It is far more relaxed over there, there isn't as many restrictions."

"Then why'd you move here?" Oh God. I sure hoped that wasn't rude.

His lips quirked, as he ran his hands over the flat-top of the table, as though he was stroking it. "Because I feel that a change is coming. A monumental one."

"And what change might that be?"

"Drink up," he urged me softly, motioning to my mocha.

I didn't much like people telling me what to do, but since I found myself all ran-out on questions, I decided to anyway, while I thought over what to say next. I got through two mouthfuls before the next question came to me. "Why are you looking for a wife?" I asked. "I mean, why me? I'm not very educated. I only just finished high school two years ago. I live in a small, backwoods town where you can't have secrets, because it's so small, everybody finds out and sees it as their own business to know. I work a petty job as a waitress. What's all that special about me? Why would somebody want me as their wife?" This was what I ultimately couldn't understand. I was at a complete and utter loss."You seem like a promising man. You've got aspirations," I added, thinking back to what he said that night at the house about wanting to run his own vampire themed bar.

He ran a long forefinger over his upper lip as he thought that though. The odd black-stoned ring he was wearing on it flashed and gleamed at me in the soft lights in the restaurant. Then his left eyebrow quirked at me. "I believe the reasons are obvious as to why I want you."

"It really isn't. You could literally have anyone."

"But I don't want just only anyone," he said, looking me square in the eye. "I want you."

"But why? It doesn't really make sense to me."

"Fishing for compliments, are we?" he asked humorously.

"No, of course not. It really isn't like that!"

He grinned at me, then his look turned deadly serious within a heartbeat. "I went to Church, and it had been the first time I had gone in many, many years. I was there to repent for my sins, and I've worked up a lot of them over the years." His eyes closed briefly in what seemed to me as shame. "But then, I got rather... side-tracked."

"Side-tracked from what?"

"Well, by you, of course." His voice went low and husky. "Suddenly, the sins I have committed didn't seem to matter. We're all sinners. But then something about you... it instantly caught my eye. Being close to you, sitting next to you, your golden skin..." He closed his eyes again, for a bit longer this time, and I saw him shudder visibly. He reopened his eyes slowly, and I was startled by the desire filled in them as he looked back at me from across the table. "You're a heavenly little thing, Miss. Fiery. And when I see something that heavenly, I feel an insatiable urge to be near it." I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. I found myself consumed by his voice. Hell, I couldn't even remember how to breathe. "I know my darkness will eventually snuff it out, but I can't help myself." Suddenly, the room was sweltering. The atmosphere, the needful and dark glint in his eyes, his words. Everything.

Purposefully lowering my eyes, I took a few gulps of my coffee in. Flustered and thirsty, was what I was feeling.

"How are you going with that mocha?" he asked lightly, suddenly tearing through the hot atmosphere.

"Almost finished," I answered, tilting it over to show him so.

"Excellent." He nodded once, seeming satisfied. "My place or yours next?"

"Yours," I decided bravely. I swallowed down quickly the last few mouthfuls of my mocha, and to my feet, I rose. I grabbed my jacket and slipped it back on. It wasn't really all that cold outside, but I figured I might need it anyhow.

"All right. My place it is, then." We exited the restaurant. He had rushed forward to hold the door open to me.

"You must be real eager to impress me, huh?" I laughed.

He flashed a wicked grin into my direction. "Oh, you have no idea."

I laughed again quietly.

He slipped his arm around my waist as we walked, pressing me into his side, and I was surprised to find it no longer bothered me. I felt rather comfortable around him now. Maybe it was because I felt I knew him a whole lot better, though. His head was turned fractionally towards me as we walked near each other to where his car was parked. I looked up, and his shining eyes were glued to my lips.

"Yes, you have my permission," I muttered, because it seemed like he was waiting for it.

He brought his hand up from my shoulder to grasp at the corner of my chin, bringing my face up a notch, and then he bent down to kiss me and go for it. My heart raced as he licked my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and then his lips were fully on mine in no time. It was sort of hard to kiss and walk at the same time, I didn't know where we were walking, but much to my astonishment, I rather enjoyed it. He explored my mouth with his tongue, and mine tentatively stroked his in return. Kissing was so weird. Just as I was really getting into it, he turned his head away, leaving me unfairly hanging. I sure hadn't been ready for it to end anytime soon.

It took me a second to realize we were standing where his red car was parked.

My knees felt weak.

"Here she is," he said, looking over the shiny exterior of his car.

"She? What, have you named her as well?"

"Not yet." He unlocked the door, letting me climb in. "Maybe we can think of a name to call her?"

He got in and he kissed me on the mouth once more before starting the ignition.

"How do you know the car is a girl?" I asked, shooting him a sceptical look.

He sneaked a quick look over at me before he pulled out of the parking spot. "I don't know. I just feel it. It's a feeling that you get. She feels like a woman to me."

"Right, because a car can feel like a woman?"

"It does. It honestly does to me."

We fell into a silence towards his apartment, but it felt more of a relaxed one. It gave me a lot of time to think. I realized it wasn't so bad, when we could be like this; Talking about the gender of his car, of all things. It was fun. Not so serious.

Once we reached his house, he seemed reluctant to get me inside.

"Pam's probably in there," he said, with distaste. "I think she brought that lady home for the night."

"She was rather nice though, wasn't she?"

When I stepped inside, I realized the woman wasn't only just nice. She was loud. Very, very loud. I could hear her all the way from in the living room. She was moaning, uttering a mix of cries in what sounded both of pain and pleasure.

"Goodness gracious me," I spluttered, as the sounds drifted out. "What do you think your roomy is doing to that poor woman?"

"I don't know. Then again, I don't really give a shit to know."

He kicked off his shoes, and I decided to do the same. He was removing his jacket when I crossed over towards that U-shaped red couch. I sat down on it, crossing my legs. I tried to ignore the sounds, best as I was able to. It was no use, though; They were being far too loud.

He came over and plopped down next to me. Because neither one of us were talking, the sounds got even more louder.

"_Ah,"_ the woman cried desperately through the wall. _"Fuck! It hurts! Ah, oomph!"_

"Well, this is awkward," I whispered, unsure whether to laugh or to be embarrassed.

We sat there for a little while longer, until I felt his hand smooth over my hair. "This was probably a mistake, bringing you here right now," he said nervously.

"It's fine," I assured him with a smile. I scooted over closer to him on the couch a fraction, twisting my body around to face him. He put his arms around me slowly, and before I knew it, my knees were up on the couch over his legs, and we were kissing. I felt his hand come up to my cheek, while the other roamed around, exploring. Then I felt his hand come up underneath my shirt, and his flesh rub up against me. I sucked in a deep breath, embarrassed, as he groped one of my breasts through my bra, caressing me with a light squeeze of his fingers. I felt suddenly embarrassed, because I knew for a fact I wasn't exactly wearing my best bra for the occasion. I flinched a bit when he squeezed my breast far too hard in a way I wouldn't consider painless. He stopped kissing me, and my lips felt all sore.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice raspy.

"Yep. I'm all good," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

"Am I being too rough?"

"No, it's fine. You're fine."

I gazed down at him. His gaze was hooded slightly, with something I recognized as arousal and hunger. It flattered me and surprised me in equal measure that I could make a man feel that way. He gently stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. Suddenly the noises in the other room didn't seem to matter so much anymore.

I realized I could be coming quickly on my way to losing my virginity to this man.

I rested my elbows onto his shoulders and twisted my fingers through the short hairs on the nape of his neck. "I think maybe we should stop this," I muttered shyly. "I don't want to be taking things too far right now."

He eased himself up on the couch to get his face closer to mine. I could feel him breathing on me. He took my face in his hands. His eyes searched mine. "This is going to happen eventually," he murmured quietly, sounding out of breath.

I shook my head. "We shouldn't." I took his hands off my face and held them together. "Your roomy is in the other room having sex, or doing heaven knows what to that other woman. It doesn't feel right. It's not the right time. I'm sorry."

"You're right," he breathed, after a moment unevenly. "We shouldn't fuck now. At least not until you're my wife, anyway."

What a way to kill the mood.

"God," I sighed in exasperation. I sat up and slid off him, putting some distance between us. I folded my arms over my chest. "Please cut it with the wife crap already!"

"Well, it's what you're going to be," he hissed. I didn't even have to look at his face to know he was angry. "The quicker you accept that, the easier it'll be."

"I don't have to accept anything, because it isn't happening," I seethed bitterly. "Not with you. I have no intentions of getting married, and I can tell you this now, buster, I am not marrying you anytime soon. You can't force me to marry you. You just can't. I am my own person, I make my own decisions. I can't be bossed around or shoved into anything."

"You are mine," he stated gruffly. "And you will be."

"Uh, excuse me? Did all that I've just said fly straight past your head? I can't be bossed around!"

I got to my feet, and went to where my shoes were. I crouched down and started putting them on.

"You will be my wife," he said, coming after me. "You mightn't agree with it now, but your darling Grandmother already gave me her consent. It's all I need. I needed her consent, and now I've gotten it. We could be getting married at any single fucking time I say so!"

I turned around furiously to look at him. I felt my eyes water with rage.

"So, you have my Gran's consent. Big whoopee. You don't have mine, and you might as well give up now while you're at it, because I can promise you, you never will be getting it!"

"You're unbelievable," he argued, laughing out loud in disbelief harshly. "_When_ are you going to understand? Your consent means next to jack-shit. You will be my wife, and I will love you as though you are the only living thing left in this entire universe. You can continue to go on trying to fight it, trying to resist me. But I'm going to be here, for a very, very long time. And eventually, all things yield. _Including_ you."

"I want so badly to hate you," I cried, "Yet the pathetic thing is that I just can't." And then I turned around on the spot and ran out the front door. Then he was trailing after me out the front door like a mad man.

Since I didn't know how else I was going to get home, I sucked up my pride and allowed him to drop me back off. It made for a very long, very excruciatingly tense drive. I didn't dare look at him. I didn't dare speak to him. Instead, I kept my eyes strictly forward, my arms crossed over my chest. After a while, he was the first to break it. I had won.

"I know your game, Sookie," he muttered, and when I darted him a frosty look, I found he was glowering out the windshield.

"Oh, yeah?" I retorted sarcastically. "Just what am I doing? What's my game?"

"You're ignoring me."

"Well done, you worked that out. Too bad you can't work out other things."

"Will you stop this? It's infantile."

"Oh, well. Pardon me."

Without warning, the car swerved off the road, and he found a little safe section to park beside the road. He put on the brakes, and unbuckled his seat belt briskly. I guess I had pushed him far enough.

"I thought you had learned well enough by now since that first time we fought on the date what happens when you're like this, with your fire? Not to mention how I get when you piss me off?" He was so angry the words were barely audible.

"Guess I haven't really learned yet, have I?" I muttered disdainfully. I turned in my seat to stare him down. His eyes ran swiftly and ravenously down the entire length of my face and my denim jacket. Anger is his motivator for sure. I didn't care, though. I wouldn't bow down to pressure. No way.


	9. I Will Get You

**First I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I blame real life getting in the way, so I'm very sorry. I promise next update I won't leave you waiting for so long. I'm a bit short on time at the moment, but hopefully next update (longer chapter) will make up for it. Thank you all for your interest, it's really flattering. We will find out very soon what Eric is, promise ;)**

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**Chapter Nine**

I didn't know how long we sat there in his car for. But any second spent with him was a second far too much. I was growing impatient by the way he was simply sitting there, staring at me, drinking me in like I was food or something. I started growing so impatient, in fact, that I even felt insanely tempted to slap him across the face just so that it would make him stop.

I realized I didn't particularly enjoy people ogling me in dead silence, the way he was. I could tell his anger had toned down a bit, because his expression softened, so at least it wasn't a lot of angry, brooding staring directed at me from where he sat in the driver's seat. Clearly he didn't like being ignored. I didn't like it either, truth be told, when people did that to me as well. Still, I felt he sort of deserved it for how he had treated me inside his apartment; His bossy words telling me that I was going to be his wife, literally no matter what. His blatant disregard of my feelings on the subject.

Not only was I very pissed by all of that, but it occurred to me belatedly that I never ate any dinner tonight when we went out; I only just had a mocha, hardly anything substantial and what you would class as food. My stomach growled rudely in between the silence, I clasped my hands over my stomach like it would somehow drown the noise out, and I'm pretty sure he heard the noise my stomach made himself.

It was another reason to add to why I wanted to get home and as far away from this impossibly infuriating man as quickly as possible. I was starving like a dog. Fortunately not that starving to consider cannibalism.

After a while, he removed his eyes from me, gave out a loud sigh, and I caught him peering around the outside of his car, for Lord knows whatever reason he had to do it. It was almost as if he was gauging whether we were safe without prying eyes around to see us.

Maybe he was a murderer? I wondered then fearfully. Perhaps this was the moment he finally offed me? It was pretty dark out, I realized, as I looked around the car myself. Too dark, and had he done anything to me... Hell, no one would even know. No one. I was out on my own in the world.

"Look, I kind of want to get home now," I informed him angrily. "I'm starving, so can you please drop me off home already? This is getting ridiculous!"

I caught the moment in the corner of my eye as he leaned over towards me in his seat. I was positive this was the moment. But rather instead of slapping me or doing whatever it was he did in his bursts of anger and frustration, he took the surprising route in catching me off-guard by placing his hand on the side of my neck. He simply held it there, his long fingers wrapping over my throat. At first, I got to unpleasantly thinking he was tempted into choking me, only he didn't. There was no squeeze of his fingers whatsoever. They just lay on my skin. I could feel the fiery heat of my skin in contrast to his cooler hand, and I shuddered. I turned to look at him, feeling my entire body bubble with loathing. His eyes met mine at once, and they were shining with bundles of emotion that I couldn't place.

"You're attracted to me." It was as if it came out of his mouth from nowhere. I thought he was saying that to try to convince me of it myself. His voice went very quiet, very deep.

"Oh, get real," I said scornfully. His thumb stroked under my earlobe, before he inserted the lightest amount of pressure into my skin with the tip of it. I had to fight back another shiver. I swallowed loudly as I told myself to bravely hold eye-contact. It was my part of defiance, something I wanted to tell him with that I couldn't be told how I should feel. He couldn't make me feel anything, and not ever off my own back would I agree to be his wife. "What century do you think you live in?" I blabbered, without being able to stop myself.

"It is 2013, is it not?" he whispered, with an attitude of confusion.

"Exactly," I went on pointedly, getting straight to the point with no apologies whatsoever. "It's 2013. I don't know what era you think we're in, but in these times and ages people don't get married without their will."

His expression softened dramatically into one of humour. And then, he was laughing. It was a small, spiteful little chuckle at what I had said. I don't see the funny side in what I'd said myself, personally. My blood boiled lethally. "Oh, but you will be willing. Don't you see?"

"I think I enjoyed my life better before you started all of this." _God, how I wished he would leave me the heck alone for good. _"I wish you would leave me alone, honestly. I never want to see you ever again, and I'll never be what you want me to be."

"You may say that now, but I believe I have a few meaningful aces up my sleeve that I can always use."

"Oh, yeah," I muttered dubiously. "Like what exactly?"

I hadn't realized I was digging myself deeper into a hole, until it happened. His eyes smouldered at my question, and his lips parted along with it. I could hear his shallow breathing, as he started lowering his hand from where it was positioned on my neck. Lower it went, slowly... slowly, teasing me down my throat, until it went very nearly under the neck of my shirt. I felt my heart rate pick up a notch, and my breath got caught in my throat. So, that was the demonstration to his answer? He affected my body, big time, in a way I wasn't proud of. But that still didn't mean anything.

"So what? That's it?" I breathed, hating how disgracefully weird my voice sounded. I sounded just as flustered as I felt. I was sure positive any sound woman my age, or otherwise, would have reacted the same if a man was being that provocative and straightforward with them. "My body isn't connected to my head, my brain. It's an entity. Just because I might react in a way that speaks otherwise with my body, it doesn't mean I'm attracted to you by my brain." I made a rude noise with my mouth. "No, my brain is thinking and feeling something completely different, than what my body does. And that's disgust and sheer mistrust of you."

Instead of wounding him like it would have any sane man surely, it just got him all the more amused. An amused laugh got stuck in his throat. His eyes were dancing deliriously. "If you think your harsh words are going to discourage me eventually, you're very wrong. They only do the opposite of your intentions."

I gave out a little spiteful laugh myself. Now we were both laughing maliciously at one another, like this was a type of game; A battle of the sexes. "Then you're just as crazy as I first thought. Any normal decent man could see when a girl isn't interested. Clearly you have some trouble telling the difference and accepting a girl for what she says." I eyed him reproachfully. "You just can't take no for an answer, can you?"

"I am enjoying this. Why should I stop now?"

"Hmmm, I can think of plenty of reasons."

"Well, there is nothing fulfilling in getting something that comes to you so easily."

"You're forgetting something," I told him, my voicing singing with spite.

His eyebrows rose. "Oh? What's that?"

"That I don't like you touching me," I taunted. To make my point extra clear on him, because it was obvious he needed it, I took his hand and threw it off my chest. Just like that, he wasn't laughing. He looked finally offended, like someone being denied a privilege. I could tell he had a million things to say in response to that, but instead, he appeared to bite down on the tip of his tongue and refrain. Instead, he pressed his lips together tightly, turning away. He definitely wasn't laughing now. "You're a very touchy-feely person, aren't you?" I said, observing- and maybe enjoying cruelly- his crestfallen reaction to that. "You can't seem able to keep your hands off me, can you?"

"I guess not." He didn't look too pleased to admit to that, either. "It's what you've done to me."

_What I've done to him?_ It took all my might not to laugh out of bitterness at that ridiculous statement. I haven't done anything to him, not anything. It's _him_ that is doing this, to me.

"Well, just so you know, I'm way too smart to be seduced by you," I added, rubbing it all in for good measure. "It won't get you what you want. You can't seduce me into marrying you."

"Oh, and that's why I adore you," he muttered quietly, as he started the car up again. My entire body loosened with relief at the sound of the engine being put to life again. It meant that I was finally going where I wanted to most, and that was back home. "I've never been afraid of a challenge, Sookie Stackhouse. Despite what you are hoping for, it only makes me want you even more."

There was no denying I felt sexually attracted to him. Hell, even a blind person could have probably picked up on that. I've never felt that way about a man before, but maybe that was because he was so direct.

But still, I had that feeling in my gut that there was something different about him. I mightn't know what that difference was, but I was keen on finding it out somehow.

**Hoping this chapter wasn't a major let-down. Next chapter will be longer, I promise. Thanks for reading. Love to know your thoughts :-) ****I thought it's about time I changed this to M rating, as things are going to get eerie with where I'm planning to go next chapter. You can expect some deaths, and more Eric getting touchy-feely to Sookie LOL. Hope you're still interested. Until then, love you guys!**


	10. Making an Exit

**Hope you enjoy this one. It's longer than the last chapter at least, and more eventful. Thank you all so much, I've very flattered by your response. Hope this one isn't too bad, and I apologize for any written errors. I take full responsibility.**

**Chapter Ten**

When I was finally dropped off home, I found Gran inside sitting in the same place she had been before I left her, in her armchair. She sat up straighter when she saw me come in and she closed the book she was reading to give me her undivided attention. "How did everything go tonight?" she asked, with enthusiasm to hear of my night. The enthusiasm was only one-sided.

"Gran, I'm so hungry," I told her miserably.

"Then fix yourself up something to eat, honey. I thought you said Mr. Northman invited you out for dinner?"

"Oh, he did," I answered briskly. "We just... didn't eat. I had a cup of coffee, a mocha, and that's about it."

I felt so hungry that I could have eaten an elephant. Fixing something to eat was definitely a great idea, so I rushed into the kitchen.

Gran followed me in, making a gentle noise of concern. "So why didn't either of you eat?"

"I don't know, Gran," I replied, while raiding through the refrigerator "I guess we were both too busy talking. All I know is that I'm starving now. I guess neither one of us were hungry at the time."

"Has your opinion changed on him?" I could tell by Gran's tone of voice that she wished it were the case.

I sighed and gave up on my searching. "Not really," I said reluctantly. "I still believe there's something strange about him."

"Oh, Sookie," she laughed. "You're being paranoid."

I thought that over for a few silent minutes. Was I only being paranoid? I decided it wasn't just paranoia. There was something different about him, I could just tell. Of course Gran wouldn't be able to so easily, since she hadn't been around him very much. "Gran, can I ask you something? Tell me the truth."

"What is it, dear?"

I pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and sat. After a few seconds of staring at me warily, Gran did the same thing in pulling up a chair. She sat right near me, and leaned over to squeeze my hand.

"Is something the matter, Sookie? Did he do something to you?"

"Not really. I'm just wondering about something he said. He said you gave him your consent to marry me. Is that true, Gran?" I tried to sound not so much as angry with her, but patient and curious. "Did you really say that to him?"

Gran was silent for a very long moment. I thought she looked deeply confused. "Well, he did ask me my thoughts and if he had my permission. I did tell him whatever happens between the pair of you that I will be pleased, so long as you were fine with it, dear. I don't quite remember telling him he can just go ahead and marry you, without you having a say."

Now that's what I kind of thought. I knew Gran would never force me into doing something I didn't feel all that up for. But could Gran not have remembered what she said to him? Usually, she wasn't so forgetful, especially not over important, life-altering things. "What do you mean you can't remember, Gran?" I asked, feeling a little worried for her.

I hoped then that she wasn't having trouble with her memory. I've heard that when you reach a certain old age, the first thing that starts to go is your memory. You start forgetting things, like where you placed your keys, or whether you fed the cat in the morning or not. Surely you couldn't forget whether you told a man he could just go off and marry your Granddaughter without taking her word into consideration, right? You couldn't just forget doing something so big.

"I'm just not sure. Things are a bit... fuzzy when I think back to it."

"Fuzzy?" I repeated, in disbelief. _Oh, no._ Maybe Gran _was_ having trouble with her memory after all?

I could tell Gran was worried herself with not being able to remember the precise words she had told him. She tried to hide it by rising from the kitchen table and finding her beloved sugary biscuits from in the pantry. She unwrapped them and sat them on the table for me. Feeling a bit like a pig for it, I snatched two and ate them down quickly.

"I'm just not sure, honey," she said again, rubbing around her forehead with her fingers. "But I know I said it was your decision, whatever happened. I don't understand why I can't remember, but then again, it _is_ late. Perhaps you should ask me tomorrow morning, once I have a clear head?"

I checked the time myself, found out it was ten-thirty. It was definitely too late to be having serious discussions. It was way past the time I ordinarily went to bed. I got to my feet and bent over Gran to hug her. "Gran it's fine," I told her gently. "I might head to bed."

"All right," she said, patting me on my back softly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Gran."

I stole another biscuit and nibbled on it on my way upstairs. I felt worried for Gran, but at the same time, I knew it was probably best to ask her more about it in the morning. I changed into my pajamas, while I thought the night through.

I felt like little invisible spiders were crawling up and down my body, as I remembered the way Eric Northman had reached over and placed his hand around my neck, my throat. I was so worried that he was about to strangle me, only he hadn't. Without really understanding why I was doing it, I touched the same area of my throat with my hand nervously, feeling around with my fingers self-consciously. I just couldn't understand why he had gone and done that; Maybe it was his own little attempt of intimidating me? I touched the exact place he had touched me, with the tip of his thumb asserting pressure just at the patch of skin below my earlobe. All I could feel was my pulse reverberating through my skin. Maybe he was just checking for a pulse, a sign of life?

Then I thought back to all the things he had said to me tonight.

So, I found him sexy in a skeevy sort of way. I had almost been willing to give my virginity to him, when we made-out on his couch, despite all that terrible noise his roomy was making with that other woman. But that was only just hormones talking. I just got a bit carried away, and had enjoyed kissing with him. It didn't mean I wanted to marry him.

Getting married was the very last thing I had in mind, right now. I might have been interested in Eric had he stopped being so pushy by bringing it up into the conversation every damn time he pleased. It was a major turn-off when he did, and it tended to bring out that grumpy, argumentative side in myself. I supposed we could have gotten along better and I might have even found myself really liking him if he hadn't insisted on bringing the matter up constantly. I mean, how do you make it clear to somebody that they needed to stop with all that?

Even as I got into bed, I was still thinking about the evening. I was restless and my mind just wouldn't stop turning and turning like a clock with thoughts; I didn't know much about this Eric Northman at all, despite talking with him tonight. All the things that he had told me were still really of no help in getting to know somebody, His entire family was dead. He used to live in Sweden. He had a roomy who wasn't fussy with which gender she fooled around with. He liked to touch me constantly, despite my discomfort, almost as if he couldn't help himself from doing it. He had jumped the gun a few nights ago by completely taking me by surprise in doing something intimate to me... in Southern regions that I never dreamed a man would dare to go before with a young woman. Disturbingly enough, he seemed like he had enjoyed doing that to me and, most of all, that he had enjoyed the taste. How creepy was that? How can somebody enjoy something like that?

When early morning came I sat up and stared at my alarm clock. I felt as though I hadn't slept a wink all night, and I probably hadn't.

* * *

"I can't wait to get out of this shitty-ass town, Sook," Tara said to me dismally next afternoon at work. "I just want to get out of here, away from everything."

"What's up?" I asked with concern. "What's happened?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just the same-old shit that happens all the time with my Momma. I miss however many thousand years it was when she was sober and acting like normal people."

I get embarrassed whenever Tara speaks about her mother's drinking problems. It's a subject Tara hardly ever brings up, although the entire town knows about it already. It's what sucks about living in a small town; Everybody seems to know your business sooner or later, despite it being none of their concern anyway. I get worried about Tara; When her mother drinks, she can get really abusive. Not only physically, but verbally. It can really crush Tara's spirits. Because of her home situation, she tends to spend a lot of time living over at her cousin Lafayette's place when it gets too much for her to handle.

"I don't feel sorry for her at all," she went on bitterly. "She tries to guilt-trip me all the time. Thing is, she's the only one who can get proper treatment for her problem. No one else can help her, but herself. She can't fucking see that, though. She said to me last night that if she hadn't had such a lousy daughter like me, then she probably wouldn't have turned out this way. She tends to think that her problem will go away by itself, and yet it never does. She's always constantly whining to me. 'Oh, I got the shivers, I'm so fucking cold', or 'Tara, go get me that bottle of Whiskey at the back of the cupboard. It'll make me feel better'." She laughed to herself. "Yeah, fucking right."

I sighed sadly and rubbed her shoulder. "Hey, it isn't your fault, Tara. We're the masters of our own destiny. Just try not to let her drag you into her own crap, all right? She's probably just looking for someone to pin the blame onto, than taking responsibility for her own actions." I could feel Sam watching us suspiciously to make sure we were working, so I quickly reached down underneath the counter for a dishcloth to start wiping down the oak of the bar. It didn't need cleaning, it was already spick-and-span clean. But how would Sam know that, anyway? "Hey Tara, is your Momma forcing you to marry some random guy you hardly know?"

"What? Your Grandmother is? Get out of here."

"Seriously, she is." I laughed. "You know that guy you saw that time who drove me when our shift finished?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, _that's_ him. Gran wants me to marry him."

"What?" she said incredulously. It seemed to break her out of her depressed mood over her difficult home situation immediately. "Sook, that's fucked up. _Why_ would your Granny want something like that for you?"

"Don't know, Tara." I smiled at her glumly. "But like I said before: I firmly believe we are masters of our own destiny. I'm not going to marry some weirdo, you know?"

"What, does your Granny think we live in an age where arranged marriages are still performed or something?"

"I have no idea." I shrugged. "I mean, he's... _nice_ in his own way, and all. But something just isn't right with him. Like I get this gut-feeling, whenever I'm around him."

Arlene pops in behind us from completing her rounds. "Ooh, what you two talking about?" she asked, looking between us with interest. "Anything I should know?"

"Just Sookie's crazy predicament," Tara explained for me.

"And just what might that predicament be?"

"Sookie's Granny Adele has apparently set her up with this random guy. She wants them to get married or some ridiculous shit."

Arlene's eyes widened with heightened interest. "You don't mean that good-looking fella that dropped in here before? Oh, Sookie. He was _very_ nice." In saying that, I knew Arlene wasn't referring to his personality, but his outwards appearance.

"I guess he is alright looking," I admitted cautiously. "But looks aren't everything, Arlene."

"Hon, I know that." She patted me gently on my hand. "But it wouldn't kill you to see him, would it? You're young, so why shouldn't you have some fun?"

"I could if he stopped insisting I was his wife," I told her glumly.

"What's so bad about that?" Arlene asked aloud, looking dreamy. "Usually men are afraid of commitment. You ought to feel lucky that you've found one who isn't. Where can I find me a man who's all for marriage?"

"Like you need to get married again," I heard Tara mutter underneath her breath. Arlene had been married three times now. Sometimes I wondered whether she was addicted to weddings and having people fussing over her as a newlywed.

"Well, Arlene, if you want to take him for me, that's fine by me," I told her, half-serious. "He seems to want a wife so badly, and you want to be one all over again. Maybe I should shove him into your direction?"

She went silent for a few minutes, considering that deeply. Then she waved the offer away with her hand and laughed. "No, Sookie. I don't think he's very much my type!"

"I thought your type was only a man," Tara said, probably louder than she had intended to say it.

Arlene heard and gasped in playful offense. "Hey, now," she muttered to Tara in a sharp voice. "That was mean, Tara. What are you trying to say?"

Our boss took the unfortunate moment to jump in. The three of us went abruptly silent when he made himself known. "I want you girl's to stop gossiping," he told us all with warning clear in his voice. "Start working."

"Yes boss," Arlene was the first to answer obediently. When Arlene was out of earshot, Tara said to me that maybe it would be best of Arlene to marry Sam, considering she kisses his ass all the time in the hopes of getting a raise. We shared a few laughs while we imagined Arlene and Sam, and then we put the image straight behind us and got dutifully to work.

At six in the evening, my brother Jason came in, after having finished his day at work. He liked to come in every now and then, and I got his usual prepared for him while he sat in one of the booths. When I rushed over to him carrying his beer, I kissed him on the cheek while he was sitting preoccupied with reading the day's addition of the newspaper. He didn't even bother talking to me, because he was that engrossed in one of the headlines. After doing some more rounds and once the bar died down a bit, I went back over. He was still stuck on the headline.

"What you reading?" I asked, standing over the table to look.

He flipped through the first few pages, telling me of a killing that took place a few nights ago. Apparently a young woman, around in her late teenage years, had been found dead. It took up a few pages. It was the first killing we had in Bon Temps for quite some time- or so Jason felt necessary to tell me. I wasn't like Jason in wanting to hear about gruesome things. He loved reading tales about murderers. Evidently he felt real excited about this one.

"They didn't catch who did it," he went on, with excitement. "But they're telling everybody to keep an eye out. They never said how she got murdered, but they said the man who found her was being treated for shock. That means it's something pretty fucked-up, right, for a guy to get so shocked by it?"

"Jason, I don't see why you're getting so invested in it. You shouldn't be reading terrible things like that."

"Well, some boys' from work were talking about it. Andy told one of 'em what happened, how they found her." I didn't really want to listen, but I had no choice. Plus, I was maybe curious myself, despite I knew it would have only given me nightmares.

"How did it happen?" I asked, a bit hesitantly.

"Well, you know how they do with pigs at the butchers? How they tie 'em up by their feet, sis?"

"Uh, I think so." Why was he talking about the way butcher's killed pigs for? How was that the same as killing a poor, innocent girl? "What about it, Jason?"

"Well, that's exactly how they found the girl. She was strung up by a tree at her feet."

"She died just by somebody stringing her up to a tree?"

"No, Sookie," he said, impatient on my not understanding. "What they did was, they strung her up. Then they cut her throat open." In an unnecessary way to explain it to me, Jason pretended someone was slitting his throat, making a terrible face at me. "They got her blood. They let her bleed out from her neck, sis, and in doing that they got her blood."

"You mean they collected her blood?"

"Well, yeah. They must've brought something with 'em, something to collect all the blood, because apparently she was wrung drip-dry of blood. Ain't that fucking creepy, sis? I wonder what they're doing with all that blood. Maybe they're cannibals or something, and they drink all that shit up?"

I clutched a hand over my stomach, feeling equal disgust and fear. "Jason, that's terrible. Poor girl."

I knew I shouldn't have asked Jason about it, because as I got reluctantly back to work, I felt... off. Sick inside at the thought of how somebody could do that to another person. She was only a girl, she didn't deserve that at all. And _how dare_ somebody treat her in the same way pig's are treated? _Poor pigs. Poor girl._ I knew I was bound to have nightmares later tonight, when I tried to get to sleep. I just knew it._ Damn Jason for te__lling me._

* * *

The entire town of Bon Temps was in strife. News spread like wildfire about what happened to the girl and sure enough, everybody knew of the murder.

People kept talking about it, making their own speculations. One silly person was saying there must be a satanic cult going around, where the members likened themselves to vampire's and that they murdered the girl in their own, sordid ritual to get her blood. I grew tired of hearing about all the various sick things people came up with. At work, it was worse, because I heard people talking about what happened to that girl on a daily basis for the rest of the week. It seemed everybody was working on their own conclusion to what happened. I couldn't say I was one of them. While it had me curious and horrified at first, it began to only just frighten me even more. I wasn't one to talk about a person getting murdered like it was some form of entertainment. I kept having to tell people to show a little respect, because how would they like it if they got murdered next and everybody wouldn't let them lay in peace with constantly gossiping about it?

By the time Sunday came and Gran and I went for Church, it was like a punch to my system when Eric Northman came in through that door along with other church-goers. I had completely forgotten about him all week, with having my mind on other important, worrying things. But the instance he came in, it was like my own private predicament came back to the surface again at once. Just like that, it wasn't the news of a murder that frightened and disturbed me. No, it was that delusional and pushy man coming to interfere on my life all over again.

I wasn't the slightest bit surprised that once Gran and I settled into our seats, he was cutting through two people in front of him to get to the space beside me. I was reminded of a puppy being desperate to run back to its owner, and I made sure I kept my eyes ahead at the start of the room as I felt him plop down heavily near me. I heard him panting loudly, as though he had run all the way here and battled it out to get into the seat near me.

I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, as he leaned over towards me. His mouth was right by my ear, and his breathing got even louder along with it. "Hello, Sookie."

Still refusing to look at him, I nodded once, keeping my eyes forward. "Hello, Eric," I muttered quietly. Despite having my mind off him for most of the week, that frustration and annoyance overwhelmed me all over again, when being in his presence. I thought they always said that absence makes the heart grow fonder? Not much in this case evidently...

"How are you?" he asked me next softly, sounding as though it was something vital for him to know.

"Just fine," I answered curtly. I didn't want to be impolite, so I forced myself to say, "And yourself?"

He cleared his throat nervously, before saying, "Well, I'm wonderful now."

There was no need to ask _why_ he felt wonderful _now_. Just my luck, he was wonderful _now_ because he was getting the opportunity to pursue me again.

"I see you've heard what has happened, like most people in this small town?" he muttered quietly under his breath. I knew instantly what he was talking about. The murder.

"I have. Wasn't it disgraceful for somebody to do something like that?" I found it was easier not to hate him, when we were talking about day-to-day things. "How scary, huh?"

He didn't reply to that, but I guessed he was agreeing with me silently.

"People are saying there's this satanic group that believes themselves to be vampires, and that they were the reason behind the murder. Apparently they collected her blood, too."

"Yes, I heard about that, also. What do you think?"

"About what?" I turned to look at him blankly, then regretted it. He was still leaning in to whisper in my ear, so as I moved our faces came so close I got scared he was going to use it to his advantage. I found he was staring at my neck, or my earlobe intently. I couldn't really decide which.

"About the murder?"

"I don't know. I'm honestly trying not to think too much on it." I shrugged and made a face, bringing my eyes down to my hands. "Let the dead rest in peace, and all that. It's scary it happened so close to town, though..."

"What if that is the murderer's preference?" He shot at me, confounding me. "Little teenage girls. What happens if they come for you next?"

_Why did he always insist on saying things that spook me?_

"Well, thanks," I grumbled, feeling insulted. "Thanks for making me feel even more paranoid."

Just like that, my defenses were up again, sliding easily back into place defensively. Fortunately we couldn't talk anymore, because the priest started with the day's service. Despite it being terrible of me, I tuned out Father Simon's sermon and made my own little personalized one for myself. I lifted my head towards the ceiling, closed my eyes, and prayed with all my might.

_'God, if you're up there at all... please, I beg you to make this devil of a man stop interfering with my life.'_

I didn't think it was going to work, because as I slowly reopened my eyes, much to my dismay Eric Northman was still sitting beside me. But then it suddenly happened, and it seemed to me an act of the good Lord himself; Eric was infected by a sudden bout of sneezing episodes. Once, twice, three times. And on and on he went, sneezing loudly. He was being so loud that it began to draw everyone's attention. Maxine Fortenberry, being the religious fanatic, turned in her seat and gave him a filthy look, like he had any say in whether he sneezed in the Lord's House. Since everybody was looking to see who was making all that dreadful noise, I made like a sheep and did it as well.

I thought I would be silently satisfied for seeing him like that, only much to my astonishment, I wasn't.

Because it was worse than the general old sneezes. His nose was bleeding, and every time he kept on sneezing, it would make the rush of blood trickle out worse and worse by the second. I started searching around in my pockets for tissues or a handkerchief, but sadly I didn't have any on me whatsoever. It looked like a real severe nose-bleed, and a handkerchief sure would have helped some in not making him look all bloody.

"Oh," I heard him whimper miserably, once the sneezes died down.

The blood hadn't, though. He tried to cover his nostrils with his fingers, but it was no good. I turned in my seat to look at Gran desperately for some help, but she was the only one who funnily enough hadn't paid attention to what had happened to Eric. She was far too preoccupied listening to Father Simon's speech. Gently, I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned slightly to give me her attention. I gestured over to Eric wordlessly, Gran leaned over to look, and she gasped in horror. Fortunately she was straight on it; She pushed a handkerchief she had into one of my hands and I shook it out carefully before handing it to him.

"Thank you," he said, sounding very grateful for the handkerchief. He held it over his nose and it seemed to do wonders.

"Do you get a nosebleed all the time?" I whispered to him, concerned.

"Not all the time," he said, his voice low and muffled by the handkerchief.

I felt a strong urge to pat him on the back as a way to comfort him, I hated people being hurt or looking like they were in pain. I was just about to, when I stopped. A thin stream of blood was trickling out of his ear-hole, running down the side of his face, and it rendered me immobile. People get ear-bleeds? He didn't notice it until a moment later. It must have tickled him, because he wiped his ear carelessly with the back of a hand and the blood smeared everywhere. He appeared just as frightened as I did. I couldn't understand what was happening to him. He swore underneath his breath and quickly rose to his feet, and then touching my shoulder quickly with his hand as if to say his farewells and excuse himself, he was off, walking out of Church like a desperate man short on time with Gran's handkerchief still held to his nose. He wasn't quiet about it either, and plenty of people turned to watch him make his exit.

**Hope you enjoyed this one? Feel free to let me know :-) x Sorry if it's confusing. Answers will be revealed very soon!**


	11. Take a Bite of This

**I want to thank you all to the moon and back for your kind reviews and the alerts I have received. I very much hope you enjoy this one ;P (Hopefully it will answer one question, which you all probably already know).**

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven**_

I felt a bit worried for Eric, since he had departed Church so abruptly. As the service ended, I was determined to find him and make sure he was alright. But as I got outside, he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Sookie!"

I turned and there was Arlene, clinging onto her two children's hands. She looked beautiful in her Sunday best, but she was wearing a vibrant pink visor hat that clashed with her polka dot white-and-black dress. Because Arlene didn't have much family left, I often played fake aunty to her two children, Coby and Lisa. Coby must have had a big growth spurt, because he was taller than I remembered he last was. Forcing on a smile, I held out my arms to her and she let go of her children to hug me.

"So great to see you here, Arlene," I told her, and oddly enough, I wasn't lying. I was real pleased to see her at Church today. She was beaming as she separated from me and held me at arm's length. "I'm totally loving your dress, Arlene. You're looking good!"

"Oh, I love your dress, too. You're looking fine. Are you dressed for someone in particular? I saw that delicious fella sitting with you, before he rushed out. You two ain't fighting, are you?" she asked, all mother hen.

"Uh, no, Arlene. We weren't fighting." How funny of her to think that. "He just got a super big nosebleed." I purposefully left out the fact that not only did he have a nosebleed, but he had a whopping big ear-bleed.

"Yeah, he got out of Church real quickly," she said, her eyebrows pinching in concern. "In fact, one guy saw him rush straight into the restrooms, if you know what I mean..." She made it obvious exactly why she was saying that, when she winked at me. She was evidently expecting me to go after him, like in a romantic film between two people. She made it extra clear on me when she plucked open her handbag and yanked out some tissues. She shoved them abruptly into my hands. "Go to him," she said breathlessly.

What was I? The leading hero in a film, and he was the poor damsel in distress seeking comfort?

I frowned at her, my entire body screaming against doing that. "Oh, well. I might just do that, Arlene," I told her unenthusiastically, having trouble maintaining the smile on my face at the idea.

It was the very last thing I wanted to do, in going after him. It was terrible of me, I know. But then there are just certain types of people that you find yourself wanting to stay clear of, and he was one of them. He looked so frightened in Church, though, when the nosebleed came on. He sure looked like he was in some extent of pain. I felt a peculiar sense of responsibility because I knew for a fact that the only reason he bothered to come to Church was for me, being the stalker he is. Also, I had sort of wished on him having something come to him that made him have to get away from me. Although I knew realistically that it wasn't me that caused it to happen- it just must have been coincidental timing- I still felt oddly accountable by it, and as though it was my own personal duty to make sure he was all right. So, I decided then that it was exactly what I would do; I would check up on him, make certain he was all right, and that he had his bleeding nose and ears in control.

Making sure I had good hold on the tissues Arlene gave me, I thanked her and went off on my search. The restrooms were separate from the Church building, just a short walk away. There was only two separate cubicals- one for men, and one for women. As I reached them, I let out a soft sigh of relief. The men's one was locked, and I knew exactly who was stuck in it. Not wanting to be rude or interfering, I knocked gently.

"Uh, Eric?" I called nervously. "It's me. Sookie. I'm just checking in to make sure you are all right? Are you all right in there?"

There was an unnerving silence on his end, but I could hear him moving around inside the cubical. At least, I thought I had.

"Eric?" I tried again. "Is everything all right? I got some tissues for you. Thought you might need them. I know there's toilet paper in there probably, but I thought tissues might be better. I know toilet paper can irritate your skin, being not as gentle and soft as tissues." I became self-consciously aware that I was harping on unnecessarily. I tended to do that when I was nervous, and I was especially nervous. "Do you want me to pass you in some tissues?" There was a small eight-inch space between the cubical and the ground and discreetly I stepped back a bit to try to see his legs underneath that space. Fortunately for me, I did see them. Well, his shiny polished shoes for Church, anyhow. I knocked again, having this sudden wave of impatience hitting me. "Look, Eric. I know you're in there! Open up already!"

_My wish, his command._

Although I was expecting it, it still startled me when the door was being clicked unlocked loudly. He didn't bother opening it for me, but I assumed his hands were busy with holding toilet paper up to his nose to do so for me. I pushed it slowly open, eyeing inside the toilet cautiously, finding Eric facing the toilet, his back hunched and his large hands over his nose. I was almost treating Eric as though he was a dangerous, unleashed animal that could spring and attack at any time he pleased, which I knew was far from the case. He was just a poor man with a severe nosebleed.

My heart ached at the sight of him. I felt bad for him and I showed it. "Oh, you poor thing. You're still bleeding, aren't you?" As soon as I said it, I realized it was really a ridiculous remark to make. It was obvious he was still bleeding. "Here's some tissues for you." Feeling at home, I turned and locked the door again, before realizing my mistake. I wasn't expecting how small and cramped the cubical was, and I almost rammed into his back, if I hadn't stopped myself just in the nick of time. "Here," I said again worriedly, giving him the tissues.

He accepted them without a word, and dutifully shoved them into his nose. His hands were shaking, I noticed, and there was shiny wet blood covering them. I think it was pretty much about the worst nosebleed I'd ever seen a person suffer before. Sneakily, I looked at one of his ears, since it was practically the only thing I could see of him, since he was hiding himself away the way he was. I felt my brow crease in concern. So he had stopped bleeding from the ears, but it was still quite an unpleasant sight to see all the dried blood staining beneath his ear and around the side of his neck. I was absently reminded of road-kill, for some reason.

That urge to pat him on the back ran strong again, but this time I didn't refrain from doing it. I could see a man in need of comfort. I lifted my hand closest to him and ran it down his back slowly, feeling all his muscles stiffen underneath his clothes.

"I really hope you're okay," I whispered, stating the obvious. "I wish I really knew how to help you, but then I guess all we can really do is hope that it'll stop."

He finally spoke, and I felt so relieved by it, that I was surprised I wasn't flying. His voice was deep and scratchy, like he had a sore throat. "It won't stop."

"It will," I said uneasily. "It has to because that's what always happens usually. You can't keep on bleeding forever, right?"

"It will, unless..." He trailed off, a bit like he was unsure whether he ought to finish his sentence. I was hanging for it.

"Unless what? Like I said, I wish I could help you. It's looking like I can't, though."

He turned and this was the moment I absolutely regretted my decision in coming into the cubical and locking the door on myself. It was definitely far too small for a full-grown man and a small, five-foot-four woman. So many times I had disliked being close to him, and that dislike didn't change even in this circumstance. We were that close that all he had to do was simply drop those tissues and reach-out and grab me.

"There is a way you could be helpful to me," he said. His words were softly spoken into the tissues bunching up around his face, but his eyes were right on mine. I struggled to hold the look, because it was daunting, despite how hopeless and pitiful he looked.

"I don't see how I could be of any help, besides from what I just did in supplying you tissues."

"Oh, but there is so much more that you can do." His voice went sensual and flirty, like he was aiming to seduce me or something. It wasn't working. My sense of self-preservation ran out, and I was dying to get away. To say I was regretting coming in there, was an understatement of the century.

"Well, good luck anyway, Eric," I said, hoping to beat a hasty retreat. He didn't even side-step me to allow me to exit, which any decent, polite person would have done. No, he slipped directly into my line of path, cutting me off from the door. I dropped back so that I wouldn't collide into him, feeling a dose of anger hit me lethally. "Look," I sighed, "Can't you just get out of my way? I did the nice thing in coming in here and checking up on you. Show some respect in doing the exact same thing to me by getting out of my way!" My anger died down a notch and was replaced with wariness when I watched him dunk the tissues into the toilet, showing me his face.

_Gross, there was blood everywhere! I didn't think I had ever seen anything so disgusting in my life!_

"Do you really want to help me?"

"I thought I just did! Now, scoot out of my way!"

Keeping my eyes on him, because I wanted to be certain what he was intending to do, I forced myself into not flinching when he raised a hand in the cramped-up space between us. Here I was, thinking he was about to hit me, like I was always seeming to be thinking he would. Instead, his fingers twisted through the side of my hair, gripping the strands into a fist, and along with it, my head tilted back. I was showing him a lot of throat. I swallowed audibly, my mouth dry, when he bent down to get at me. He was a really tall, tall man, so he had to bend a lot to reach me. Despite not wanting to, I accidentally whimpered when I felt his lips on my throat. It sent uncontrollable shivers up and down my spine, and it felt rather sensual being kissed like he was doing.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" he whispered against my throat. "You enjoy my mouth on you, don't you, Miss. Fiery?"

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to make myself think clearly. Everything was sort of hazy, I found I could not remember how to use my voice, and maybe I was relishing the touch of Eric's lips against my skin. His entire weight was on me, and I staggered back and lost my balance, diving straight into the wall of the cubical. I could have grabbed hold onto him, sure, to steady myself. Only I didn't want to. I didn't want to touch him and give him the impression I was wanting more of this. Sadly, I kind of was though. I felt all warm and tingly, and not in a very clever way. Now isn't that disgusting of me?

I was meant to be fighting the man off, yet his straightforward provocation excited me.

Maybe he noticed himself that I was doing my very best in not touching him, because without even stopping kissing me around my neck, he reached down and clasped my wrists into his hands in apparent ease. His fingertips pressed lightly into my wrists, and I got that strange suspicion he was checking for a pulse again. Then he brought my hands up under his shirt, moving them around in a slow circle so that I could feel every inch of his skin. I could feel hard, taut muscles and it got me all the more excited in a dreadful way. I couldn't think or talk or move. There was nothing coherent going on inside my brain, but... feeling and sensation.

"See how right this feels," Eric murmured into my neck hoarsely, sliding his hands over the back of mine gently, making them move. And move, they sure did. I wasn't sure whether it was him making them move or if my hands had a mind of their own. All I was aware of was that they were moving, higher and higher underneath his shirt. I thought I heard him breathing loudly, but then I couldn't tell if it was him or me. I was doing some pretty loud breathing of my own. "See how your hands were made to touch my body."

He made them glide higher up his stomach- or maybe that was all me- until my palms laid over his chest, my fingers splayed over his hard, cold nipples. I could not bring myself to move them, at all. I guess he took that to his advantage to make his hands do some sinful exploring of their own. He kissed and then softly bit into my neck, as he brought his hands out from underneath his shirt, making me gasp. I was too distracted by where he was intending to put his hands, than by registering this dull sting of pain that hit me around my neck.

He trailed his tongue around my neck, slippery, tickling me, and for the life of me, I could not stop the moan that escaped through my mouth. It was then I accepted defeat. I was in way too deep, and loving every minute of it. My body sure liked Eric Northman. _Yes, oh yes, it did!_ There was no hope in hell of getting away now. Not when my body was enjoying it far too much.

It was surprising. I always thought it would be gross doing something like this in a men's cubical, where it was all germy and grotty. Clearly I had fooled myself. Then again, there really wasn't anything I could do about it, I reasoned with myself. He had me stuck in a rock and hard place. It wasn't like I could have moved out of dodge anytime soon. I was stuck flat against the cubical, and his body was flush against mine. He was a heavy, strong guy. He was holding me in place. It wasn't a matter of fighting him off, when it was pretty much an unavoidable situation. It wasn't like I was completely giving in or anything like that, despite my body was aching all over.

This was just a temporary surrender.

Without warning, I gasped when his leg slide in between mine. He was pushing my legs further apart with his knee, while he kept up with ravishing my neck. And then his hands slipped underneath the end of my dress, and I felt it as his fingers deftly yanked down my underwear. He sure knew all the ways to keep me surprised. Suddenly, his palm was rubbing up against my sex, setting a slow and steady rhythm that really started to get me going, and it wasn't an unpleasant surprise either.

I tipped my head back further, and moaned. I guess he had weaknesses for necks, because Eric latched on, running his nose up the side of my neck, breathing me all in.

"My hands were made to do this to you," he whispered hoarsely into the side of my jaw, still working with his palm.

And yes, his hands indeed obviously were.

"And soon you will be my wife to have and to hold," he went on, his voice low and husky.

I felt the tiniest smidgen of distress over that, although it wasn't enough to stop the pleasure that was building inside of me, bit by bit. I wanted to make it very clear on him that it would never be happening, only my voice still wasn't working in my favour. I was coming close to exploding, all thanks to that nifty hand of his.

"I will worship every inch of your body." It was a pretty powerful and strong declaration coming out of his mouth; Like a heartfelt pledge, or a promise. "Especially this," he went on, making it extra clear on me just what he meant, in rubbing with more intensity and friction. "Especially this, Sookie Stackhouse."

Losing all sensibility, because I was that close to flying off the edge, I captured his face in my hands tightly and kissed him. He kissed me for a bit, then went straight back down to my neck. Yep, necks are definitely a weakness for him.

I shuddered against him, and I felt tears pool up in my eyes for some reason. I guess I was going to be one of those emotional, annoying criers whenever she orgasmed, and I felt tears roll down my cheeks as it finally hit me. It was even better than the first time in his apartment, where he did that thing to me on his couch, and I felt like I was going to burst into flames at the intensity of it all, as cliché as that sounded. My body went limp as a dishrag once it was all over, and much to my embarrassment, Eric had to grab hold onto my hips before I fainted, or worse. I felt it coming, and before I knew it, I was full-on crying, which was mortifying. I wished somehow I could have mysterious vanished away from him, so he didn't have to deal with it all over again. I covered my hands over my face, and then I think I was about laughing breathlessly and crying. Couldn't tell which.

I think it scared the living daylights out of Eric, because I noticed he quickly slid my panties back on decently. "Why are you crying?" His voice was filled with concern.

This reminded me of that night at his apartment all over again.

"I have no idea," I whispered, a little shaken. "I just am. Sorry!"

I became aware of that dull aching in my throat area again. My neck felt so sore for some reason, and when I touched it, trying to figure out why, I noticed I was bleeding. He must have bit me real hard then.

"You're into biting people, or something?" I remarked, trying to tease.

I sounded as weirded-out as I felt. I never knew people liked to bite a person.

"I guess I am." He sounded utterly nonchalant.

I looked him over carefully with my wet eyes. He even had blood on his mouth, but I couldn't tell if it was from the nosebleed or something else. There was something white and glistening in his mouth, but my eyes were too blurry to figure out what it was.

"Sookie, honey?"

My heart leaped in my throat, as I heard Gran calling my name frantically.

"Sookie, where've you gotten off to? Sookie!"

"Shit," I muttered, frantic. I fixed up my hair and made sure my dress was still in it's rightful place. Eric was just standing there, watching me without blinking like I was a McDonald's cheeseburger, as he liked to, I'm learning. This was really awkward. I mean, what are you meant to say after something like what just happened between us? "Uh, I guess I better go before Gran really starts panicking," I told him nervously, waving my hands around. "See you around, I guess."

"Oh, definitely."

Things were just getting weirder by the second.

"Okay. Well, bye."

I snuck out of the cubical. Well, I was hoping I would be sneaking out unnoticed. Unfortunately for me, there was a whole group of men standing around outside. I guess they all were waiting to use the toilet. The priest was even there, and he gave me a look that seemed to me as disapproving, like he knew what Eric and I were doing somehow.

"Uh, I was just checking up on his nosebleed," I told him vehemently, feeling the need to explain myself. He was practically the closest living incarnation to God, so it felt right.

"Sookie!" I heard Gran's voice from near me, making me almost jump. She looked just as disapproving as the priest. God, was I really gone for that long? "Goodness gracious me. What happened to your neck?" she exclaimed, terrified.

"What?" I wasn't aware there was anything wrong with my neck. Maybe that was why it was so sore, though?

"You got a bite on you!"

"Well, Gran. I'm just fine, all right?"

Gran wouldn't let it go. She was fussing about the bite on my neck all the way home.

**Hope this explains a few things. Well, more will happen soon, and you'll hopefully understand. Sorry if this was terrible! I find writing scenes such as what took place very challenging lol! Feel free to let me know if it was bad!**


	12. Time's Running Out

**I want to thank you all so much. Hoping you enjoy this one ;)**

_**Chapter Twelve**_

I had thought Gran was over exaggerating about the bite on my neck. I thought since it didn't feel all that painful, it couldn't have looked that bad, right? As it turned out, I was wrong.

I was staring at it in the bathroom mirror, feeling a curious mixture of both disgust and intrigue, while Gran was going crazy searching for the antiseptic spray she had in the bathroom cabinet for wounds. It was red and splotchy, with two little puncture wounds very nearly two inches apart. It looked as though a mosquito had bitten me; A huge, _huge_ mosquito, mind you.

I hadn't even known Eric had bitten me that badly. Sure, I felt him bite me, but I just assumed it was some kind of kinky thing. Maybe men liked biting women in the heat of the moment? Or maybe it was something far more sinister? I didn't know what to call it. Love bite? Hickey? It looked more like a love bite than a hickey.

While I had my suspicions that there was something strange going on with Eric, not once did I think he would turn out_ that_ strange.

Gran was getting frustrated because she couldn't find any antiseptic. She called Jason up, since he didn't have work on a Sunday and she assumed he might have known where the antiseptic was. Much to my embarrassment, he goggled my neck and whistled through his teeth at me.

"What, Jason?" I asked, annoyed. I was definitely not in the mood for some immature, brotherly teasing right now.

"Damn Sookie," he commented, sounding as though he was trying very hard not to laugh at me. "You hooked up with a guy at Church, enough that he'd give you a love bite?"

Gran was standing around, and I didn't want her hearing any part of it.

"Jason," I warned, in the flattest voice I could muster. "Stop it."

Still he refused to let it go. "Who was the guy?"

"It wasn't a guy, Jason. I got bitten." It was a feeble attempt at lying, and Jason saw straight through it, unfortunately. "There must've been a mosquito in Church. That, or a huge-ass wasp." I felt red as a Satsuma.

He snorted at me, full of disbelief. "Yeah, right," he muttered wryly. "A guy totally sucked your neck, sis. I've never seen no mosquito bites or wasp bites looking like that before..."

Gran was disinterested in our conversation, fortunately. "Jason, have you seen the antiseptic?"

"Think I left it in the kitchen. Sorry, Gran."

She huffed underneath her breath, not happy. "Then next time put it back where you got it from, all right?" She stormed out of the room, and we both stared after her in bewilderment. Gran usually wasn't in such a foul mood. Soon as Gran was out of the bathroom, Jason took the moment to pounce. I knew he would.

"Seriously, Sook. What happened? I know it weren't no insect bite that did that to you."

"All right, you got me," I confessed miserably. "Some guy just bit me."

"Some guy?" Jason was appalled. "What, you didn't know the guy who did it?"

"Of course, I do," I hissed, irritated. "He was that same guy that came around the house that time! What, you think I'd just let anybody bite me, Jason? Get real!"

"He must be a fucking vampire, sis."

Now I was struggling to keep a straight face at that. "Jason, be serious," I laughed nervously. "Vampire's don't exist. You know that!"

"Well, looks like a fucking vampire bite to me," he insisted. "If they weren't make believe anyway..."

Annoying me and hurting me in equal measure, Jason touched the two little puncture wounds with his forefinger. It stung real badly.

"Jason!" I screeched. "Don't! That hurts, you know?"

"Fangs," he said underneath his breath idiotically. He poked me again with his finger, so I swatted him away.

"Jason, vampire's don't exist! You're kind of scaring me right now!"

"Well, either that or he claimed you. Some guy's do that, sis."

"Claim me?" That was almost as ridiculous as him saying Eric was a vampire.

"Yeah, like they're marking their territory. One of the boys' at work did that one time to his girlfriend. He gave her a hickey, just so that people would know she was his. Every time they saw the hickey on her neck they knew she was off-limits."

"Well, that guy at your work sounds like a possessive weirdo then, Jason," I said. "I could never stand being with a guy who attempts to mark me as his property."

"Looks like you just have," Jason pointed out, startling me. Was that what this was all about? Marking your territory? It didn't seem so to me. Eric didn't seem like the type. Plus, doing that is just weird.

Gran entered the bathroom again, and our conversation was immediately dropped. When she applied the antiseptic on Eric's bite, it stung so bad I was whimpering something shocking the entire way through.

* * *

At work, a scarf was my new addition to my work uniform.

I couldn't stand the thought of someone commenting on it, so I wore a trusty, old scarf that belonged to my Grandmother all day. It got unbearably hot at times, especially when I had to go near the kitchen. But it was a small price to pay instead of having people gossiping about it and giving me strife. Since Jason already knew about the bite, he laughed to himself when he saw me wearing it. Arlene and Tara just commented on how pretty the colour was- they didn't assume I was hiding anything at all.

It was pretty much an ordinary start to the night and uneventful, until two people came in just after dark. They looked like newlyweds, because they had that happy sex glow about them. At least, they looked like they had only just came from their own wedding, considering how overdressed they were for Merlotte's. The man was wearing a spick-and-span black tuxedo, the woman was wearing a pretty little black halter neck dress. They were hanging off each other like a bad smell; The man's arm draped around her neck, and her beaming around the room like she'd won a real catch with this one.

Unfortunately they sat in my partition, which meant I had to deal with them.

Just as I was gathering my notepad and pencil to go over to them, they laughed loudly and he leaned over in the booth to full-on start kissing her. It was sweet, I guess, if you weren't sickened by that type of thing. But when I saw his tongue slip into her mouth, and the moans she was making, it was very nearly enough to make me gag.

I cleared my throat anxiously to get their attention. And get their attention, it certainly did. They sprang apart, and the woman beamed up at me with white, glistening Hollywood teeth.

"Hey there. Is there something I can get you both tonight?"

I saw the woman look me up and down critically with her dark eyes. It was a rather condescending, mean look. One that made me feel a bit insecure.

"Hmmm, I don't know," she said, her voice as seductive and dark as a cat purring. "What do you think, William?"

The guy gave me a good looking-over as well, raising his eyebrows. Something about either one of them gave me the jeepers. His look wasn't as condescending and mean-spirited as hers, at least. It still made me feel incredibly nervous, though.

"Uh, is there anything at all?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice as calm and collected as I possibly could.

I hardly noticed the woman lean over towards me, until I felt her fingers playing with my scarf. "That's a lovely scarf you've got there, darling," she said, fiddling with it with a set of glistening deep red painted fingernails.

"Uh, thanks. It belongs to my Grandmother. She let me borrow it."

"Why, isn't that sweet, William?" I could hear the sarcasm in her tone of voice. "Her Grandmother let her borrow it. How lovely it is."

By accident, I believe, she yanked down my scarf. I knew she had seen the bite, because the funniest look flitted across her face, and the guy- William?- he made a startled noise. She turned to look at him, he peered back at her deeply, and it seemed to me they were communicating something along with that look. Something creepy.

"Oh, my apologies, little girl," the woman said, oddly enough sounding sincere. She helped fix my scarf back up so that it was covering the bite. "You best keep that covered now, won't you?" she said after a moment, a threat evident in her tone of voice.

"Well, that is what I'm intending to do," I told her, setting it straight.

"Well, good. You best do that now." Again, she was talking in a dangerously low, menacingly sweet voice. What was that all about?

Slicing through her harsh look, the man bent over to whisper something into her ear. I couldn't hear what he said, but along with his words, she relaxed into a smile.

"Oh, yes, darling. Brilliant idea." She fixed her eyes on me again. "We'll be like two normal lovers, and we'll have two glasses of red wine, thank you."

I was eager to get away, but I didn't want to seem rude. So I lingered a fraction longer, keeping the smile on my face. "Sure, coming right up."

I got back over to the bar, fixing up their glasses of red wine. As I turned back, they were at it with their passionate kissing again. But this time, another person sat across from them in the seat. I recognized even the back of that person's head. It was Eric. I wasn't sure how he got here so fast, but somehow he had managed it. It was almost as though he had appeared magically out of nowhere. When I started back on my way over with their glasses carefully, I couldn't help but notice he was watching them going at it with an air of disgust similar to how I was feeling over their display of affection. I had to purse my lips together to stop myself from smiling.

I went to great efforts in ignoring him as I placed their red wines on the table. I wondered then how Eric knew such crass people. Then again, Eric was pretty crass himself. I was doing an excellent job of ignoring him, until he called me back in an almost stern voice that I couldn't ignore.

"Sookie?"

I closed my eyes and bit down on the tip of my tongue, before I turned back to him. I was wearing the fakest grin imaginable. "Oh, yes Eric?"

Turning his attention away from the two, he looked at me. He was smiling, although no emotion hit his eyes along with it. "Are you available after work?"

The two stopped dramatically with their kissing to watch our interaction, like we were a new form of entertainment, I noticed.

I felt my cheeks redden, knowing the newlywed pair were still assessing us. "Uh, yes. I have no plans. Why is that?" I asked, suspicion coating my voice. I sure hoped he didn't want to bite me again, or do _something_ weird to me.

"I wish to see you, that's all."

"All right. I guess that's fine by me."

I regretted saying that, when his eyes took in the scarf I was wearing. No doubt, he knew exactly why I was wearing it. He looked amused by it, very much so. I fought the urge to say something rude about him marking me with a love bite, and off I went.

The three of them sat there in that booth all night. The couple wasn't kissing anymore, so at least that's something. But I did notice they called someone over to the table, and the woman's laughter rang high as he did all these crazy things, like a performer. He flapped his arms around like a chicken, he did an imitation of Michael Jackson dancing. I thought Eric was the only one who did not look amused. He wasn't laughing at all, unlike the other two, whose laughter sounded drunk and cruel. How strange.

They cleared out only as Sam told them the bar was closing for the night. Even Sam took immediate hostility to the pair. I hadn't even seen him go off like that before, but he looked very frustrated. Arlene, Tara and I helped Sam clean up the bar for closing. When I got into the staff room fifteen minutes later, I realized I was far too tired to have to deal with Eric. I considered sneaking out the back entrance and leaving on him, but then it felt sort of mean to do so. Putting myself in his shoes, I wouldn't have very much liked it if somebody did that to me.

He was standing around outside near his car when I got out. Almost as if he had sensed my presence, he turned around immediately to look at me. There was something funny in that look for me, one I didn't much like.

"Oh, you're still here," I said, pretending to be surprised. "I thought you would have left already, sorry. I just got stuck helping Sam clean up."

"Oh, it doesn't matter how long you had taken. I still would have waited hours."

I paused with my walking at that remark, feeling my face glow with heat. It was rather sweet of him, but odd at the same time. He must have been truly desperate to see me then.

"Is there something that you really needed to talk to me about?" I asked, a bit spooked.

"You could say that, yes." It was obvious he wasn't going to give me anymore than that. He opened his car door for me, and I slid in, feeling panicked. What did he want to talk about? I wondered, as he closed the door and went over to the other side to climb in. Why couldn't he just tell me already and get it over with? Unless... he didn't want to say it in public?

I scrutinized him surreptitiously while he drove. Well, as surreptitiously as I felt I could without him noticing. He was wearing jeans and a dark jumper tonight, which was folded neatly at the elbows. His mouth was pressed into a thin line as he stared ahead at the road. I thought he looked aggravated for some reason.

"Were those two people your friends tonight?" I asked, hoping for some conversation. He threw a quick glance my way and scoffed.

"I would hardly call them my friends. They're not even close to that."

"Well, you looked pretty cosy with them?"

He ignored that. Instead, he reached over and slipped the scarf off my neck, searching the bite. I wondered if he was just looking to see how bad it was.

I stared down at my hands, folding them in my lap.

"How did you go with that nose bleed? It's stopped now obviously..."

"Yes. It stopped right after you left. I guess you helped me a lot more than you thought you would be capable of."

"Yeah, I guess so..." There was another dreadful moment of silence. He was taking me to his apartment. "So, what did you need to see me for?" I asked, hoping to keep the conversational ball rolling in the court. "Anything in particular?"

"I think it would be best if we talked about it indoors and with a little privacy." It didn't do any good in easing my nerves; The way he said it made me feel as though something bad was impending. Maybe he noticed how panicked I looked, because he added, quite gently, "It isn't anything all that concerning. Nothing major. I've just received some very unpleasant news."

_Some very unpleasant news? Then how can it not be anything major or concerning?_

I was thinking about it all the way to his apartment. Once we got inside, I was pleased to notice that there wasn't any funny sounds coming from in his roomie's room again. She must have been out and about for the night.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I'm all good." I still had this gut feeling that something terrible was lurking. In order to ease my nerves a notch, I distracted myself in untying my hair from its ponytail. Eric was watching me as I brushed out my long hair over my shoulders with an unfathomable expression on his face.

"Can I get you anything at all then?" he asked, irritation in his voice.

"Uh, no thanks. I don't need anything."

"Can I take your bag then?" I hadn't even realized I still had it slung over my waist, but I was perfectly fine holding it, so I shook my head.

With a heavy sigh, I heard him sit down on his couch. I could feel his eyes on me as I looked around his living room, and when I finally turned to look at him, they were still on me. He had an ankle resting on his knee, and he kept wiggling his shoe around, like he was nervous. It meant the pair of us were nervous then by the looks of it.

"All right," I sighed, losing my already thin patience. "Want to tell me why you brought me here already? What's the unpleasant news?"

He stood from the couch and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he was holding what looked like a letter. "Time's running out," he said, laying a strange document out on the couch. "Apparently you need a Visa to reside in this country. The only way I can do so is if I have a wife."

_Ah, so here it was..._

"It wasn't like this when I first arrived here, but in order to stay here, I need to be legally bound. They're threatening to send me back to Sweden."

"And you're wanting me to be your wife so that you can stay here?" I asked, surprised. I certainly wasn't expecting that. "Why can't you just ask someone else, someone who's probably willing?" Arlene instantly came to mind.

He sighed loudly again, and shrugged. "You're my only choice."

"Well, how long d'you have?"

"Three days, and that's before the monumental change begins with the prohibition."

"Three days?!" Well, damn.


	13. I Will Give you The Night

**_Thank you all so much. Hope you enjoy this one :)_**

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

_Three days?_ I couldn't seem to process it properly. It was as if somebody had punched me in the stomach, rendering me motionless. This really didn't give me much time to think it over, did it? I had always prided myself on being a shrewd thinker; Somebody who didn't jump into anything without properly thinking it over. But three days definitely wasn't enough time to think, was it? He was sort of placing me in a hard position here. It was almost like an ultimatum. If I didn't agree to it before the three days were up, then he would risk being deported out of the country back into Sweden. But then if I did agree, it meant I would be his wife. I would be married to a man I felt I hardly knew; The type of man I already had worked up a million suspicions about. Last think I wanted to do, was to marry a man I didn't feel utterly one-hundred-percent sure of.

Feeling overwhelmed, I folded my arms over my chest and sank down into his couch. There was really no easy way out of this.

"Well, you haven't given me very long to think on it, have you?" I muttered numbly, not really as a question I expected him to answer, but more of an observation. "This is really a difficult position you've placed me in here." Difficult, as well as unexpected.

I didn't even notice him kneeling down before me near my legs until he did it. He was studying my face carefully, his expression strained and weary. Perhaps he knew he was placing me in an incredibly difficult situation also? He took one of my hands in his, and it took very nearly everything I had within me not to pull away.

"This is like my home now." His voice was urgent and strong, as though he was going to great pains in making me understand. "Moving here was the greatest idea I've ever had. I will be extremely disappointed if I have to leave..."

"Yes, I can see that you would be disappointed," I said stiffly. Hell, I would be pretty upset if I was forced into leaving the state I considered home as well.

"Pamela and I have established almost a comfortable life for ourselves here. I know Pamela would be just as displeased."

I just didn't understand why I was the only option he had. Surely there were millions of others out there, who would be no doubt more willing than I was? "Why can't you just marry the first woman you see? Why does it have to be me? Couldn't you always find someone else, somebody who is all for it?"

He gave out a little grunt from in the back of his throat that sounded extremely frustrated.

"This isn't a decision I take lightly. In marrying someone else, well, that would be very careless of me. I have chosen you, Sookie Stackhouse. There are no others that I would want for this grand opportunity." _Grand opportunity? Grand opportunity, my ass... _I couldn't see anything grand about it at all, and I didn't bother with hiding it.

I made my own little noise of annoyance. "And what happens if I don't agree to it?" I wondered out loud.

"Then you know what happens," he muttered underneath his breath. "I will be forced into leaving this country. This country I consider beloved. A place I very much consider home to me." I allowed myself to steal a quick look at him. His expression wasn't very encouraging in the slightest. There was a hard glint in his eyes, his jaw was clenched tight, and he looked rather threatening to me, whether that was his intentions to be or not. "Trust in me when I say this: There is no other way. I would not be placing you in this situation if there was any other way, believe me. But there isn't. You are my only hope, and you will be taken care of fittingly, if you agree to this."

"Taken care of?" I repeated with some confusion. There was also a lot of uneasiness as well. "What does that mean exactly?"

"If this is a matter of money, then I would be none the happier in giving it to you..." His voice was quiet, hesitant. "If that is what it takes for you to agree to this, then I will. It is how desperate I am."

I made a loud noise of outrage. I was going heavy with the noises tonight. "What is with you offering me money? The check was one thing. But now, here you are, offering me money again?" I couldn't hide the sheer disgust in my voice. He seemed shocked by how badly I was taking that offer. "I don't give a rat's tail about money, and not in a thousand years would I ever be fine with accepting and taking money from you. I have a job, I have a steady income. Now I mightn't get much from work... but it's really enough to tie me over. I don't want any money from you. I don't want anything from you, least of all money... like a brought woman."

He sighed and suddenly looked apologetic. "Then you do not want financial payment for this. What would you want?"

_Gee, did I really have to spell it out for him?_ "I want nothing! I am wanting nothing!"

"The world doesn't exactly work that way," he muttered, exasperated. "I would feel better about all of this, about having to put you through this unfortunate situation, if I could somehow... give you compensation for your troubles."

"If I'm going to agree to this, I'm wanting nothing in return. It would just be a demonstration of kindness, that's it." And there was a lot of truth in my words; If I agreed, I wanted nothing in return. Absolutely nothing. I didn't want money, I didn't want anything. "Because, let's face it... there would be nothing real or genuine about this marriage. You're just asking for it so that you'll be allowed to stay in the United States. That's all this is a matter of..."

Startling me, he chuckled quietly at my words. It was as though he found something hilarious in all that I've said.

"What?" I hissed, failing in understanding what was so funny.

He gazed up at me, and I noticed there was a weird mixture of both tenderness and humour in Eric's expression. "You might feel that way, that there is nothing... genuine about this marriage that we would be undertaking. However, I find myself having... genuine affection for you." He cleared his throat softly, as though something was wedged deeply in it. "This would not be considered a sham marriage to me. I fully intend to treat you as though you truly are my wife."

I felt a little touched by that, despite not wanting to. It wasn't really something I could control, though.

"There would also be the matter of making certain no one would doubt this union between us. You would also have to take several... measures so that no one would question this."

"Right," I said quietly, waiting for the catch. I knew there had to be one somewhere in among all of this. I wasn't that naïve. "And what measures would they be?"

He stood and held his hand out to me. I hesitated, before taking it and rising from the couch. I didn't know where he was taking me, but I followed him anyway, trusting nothing would happen. I was probably far too trusting now, though. He led me down the short hallway of his apartment to a door, which he opened, flicked on a light, and waved me in expectantly with a hand. I stared him down, showing him I was fully determined to take whatever actions necessary in defending myself had he tried anything unpleasant on me, before I went in. It was a bedroom. A bedroom with little more than a double bed in the centre of the room, with all black sheets, and a domed lamp beside it... It seemed sterile and untouched, like he hadn't slept in it or spent time in the room whatsoever. I also noticed the curtains were drawn and that no light was escaping in from outside.

"Just to make it less questionable, you would probably be required to stay here."

I sighed through my teeth. I had no intentions of leaving Gran's house anytime soon. "I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving my Grandmother's house. Would you be expecting me to move in with you?"

"Not full-time. Just, say, two or three nights a week. I'm up for negotiation, whatever you feel necessary. If you are, in fact, agreeing to this, of course," he added, in a deep and scratchy voice.

"So I'd have to stay here? Sleep over here several nights a week?"

"Yes."

"With you?" That was probably the biggest problem I had, of all. "Would we have to, you know?" I breathed, feeling suddenly shy. I didn't have to elaborate on what I was asking, thank Jesus. He could put two and two together just fine.

"Who knows? You may very well find yourself warming up to the idea." He said it in a tone of voice that implied that he was hoping I would. "Usually when two people enter a... cohabitation, it does tend to happen." I really wasn't holding out on that happening. It was very doubtful in my eyes. "I also am inflicted with insomnia on most nights. When you're an insomniac, you find that you become rather desperate to pass the time somehow..."

Oh, great. So I would be stuck in bed with an insomniac? Wonderful.

"And your roomy wouldn't mind me staying here?" I asked doubtfully.

"No, Pamela would not mind it. Whatever makes me happy makes her happy."

This really was a lot to take in. Never in a million years would I ever dreamed I would be stuck in a situation like this, where the only hope I had in helping someone was to marry them. I didn't know what to think, or how to feel no less. I just didn't know at all.

I turned to look at Eric, finding him standing way too close to me. He was watching me intently, no doubt trying to work out my reaction to all of this. I had plenty of reactions.

"Well?" He prompted after a moment, his voice demanding. "Do we have an agreement?"

I stared around the room again, undecided. What the hell was I meant to do? There was really no easy way out of it. I would at least need a few hours to wrap my head around all of this. "I'm going to need some time to think it through. This is a pretty big thing, and I want to think it over first."

"We don't have long."

"Yeah, no shit," I breathed nervously. We didn't have long at all.

Pushing past me, he went and sat down on the edge of the double bed, crossing out his long legs in front of him. Now I finally understood why I was so against going in here in the first place. Things did tend to get weird around him. My body didn't exactly work with me half the time. I could feel him watching me as he stroked along the sheet of the bed with his hand. Then he patted it loudly.

"You can sit with me. I won't bite."

Ha. He won't bite? Now that was pretty much a joke. Maybe it had always been all along- to him, at least? He wouldn't bite, and yet... that was exactly what he did that morning at Church in the cubical. He had probably been playing me like a fiddle all those times he had said it, like some kind of inside joke I wasn't privy to.

"But you already have, haven't you?" I muttered, making my disgust known. "You've already bitten me, right here." I pointed at my neck with my forefinger to get the message even more clearly crossed. "I think it's already a little too late for that, isn't it?"

"I will give you the night to think it through," he said simply, ignoring me. Too bad he couldn't have given me more time.

**Hoping this one didn't suck and that you're still interested? I promise more will be happening in next updates. Thanks heaps for reading :D**


	14. You are Mine

_**Hoping you enjoy this one. Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews, they make my day! :-)**_

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

We were quiet on the drive from Eric's apartment back to my Grandmother's house. I might have been quiet, but inside, my head was anything but quiet. No, my thoughts were restless and conflicted, mainly due to the hell hole of a situation I was finding myself unexpectedly stuck in. If time was short, like Eric had said it was, on making a decision about this, then I believed I had a right to know completely from the start. I just couldn't understand the way this man thought. All those times spent scaring me and pushing me, like he was deluded with the notion that I was going to be his wife... if he had already known what was happening back then- about that letter he got with the authorities threatening to send him back to Sweden- they why hadn't he told me straight-up from the get-go instead of making me undergo all this stress and confusion?

It certainly paid to know ahead of time. Didn't I deserve that common decency?

Eric was just as quiet as me as he parked in the driveway and cut off the engine. The lights were still out on the porch- no doubt, Gran was waiting on me. She liked to leave some lights on usually, until I came home. For some reason she believed it was safer that way.

"Did you want to come inside and say hi to Gran?" I asked, reminded myself to stay polite. I didn't really want him to come in, truth be told. I needed some peace and quiet without him around so that I could really think about this big decision.

He turned to look at me, with an unfathomable expression on his face. "No, I don't think I will. Pamela and I actually have plans for the evening."

"Well, good for you." I stared down at the scarf my Grandmother let me borrow, playing with it with my fingers. "I'll contact you tomorrow, hopefully once I've come to some resolution about all this."

"Thank you for considering this." Reaching over in his seat, he took one of my hands in his and slowly brought it up to his mouth to kiss it. What a strange old-fashioned thing for somebody to do. It took a moment to get my head around it. "As I said... you are my only hope. I do hope you make the right decision, for the pair of us." Again, I could have been mistaken, but that funnily enough sounded like a bit of a threat. He still had my hand, and I felt that discomfort come on strong again, so I moved it and placed it back into my lap again. Since I couldn't think of anything else to say to him, I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to climb out of his car. His voice held me in my place, with what he said next, startling me. "Oh, I've meant to ask you. How is Bear?"

I turned to look at him. "Bear?" I repeated nervously, misunderstanding him. Who the fudge was Bear?

"Don't pretend." He gave me one of his tilted head looks again, with a secretive smile. "You know_ exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"But I really don't." I shrugged, at a loss. "Who's Bear? And why would I know somebody called Bear? Who has the name Bear, anyway, unless they're actually... a Bear or something?"

He was irritated because I couldn't seem to remember who this supposed Bear was. I saw it in the way his eyes glistened and the way his mouth tightened. "He wasn't actually a Bear. He was a dog, but you insisted on calling him Bear. I don't even know why you did." He laughed to himself softly; A faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking about something from ages ago. "Don't you remember that toy dog you got when you were a little girl? It was brown and it had googly eyes. You used to cuddle up in bed with it all the time. You couldn't keep away from it..."

Oh my God. With that, it all suddenly clicked into place. Yes, I had a toy that I was crazy about when I was little. I used to carry it along with me all the time, and refused to let other people touch it, especially not my brother as kids. I was crazy-possessive about that little plush toy. I don't even know what happened to it now, but I had loved that toy dog back then. But weren't we all like that when we were younger, and we had a particular favourite toy? How would he even know about that?

"Oh, I remember now," I sighed, feeling immediately nostalgic on my younger years. "I did have a toy dog. I can't remember calling him Bear, though. But I do remember I loved him more than anything." I looked over at Eric to find he was grinning at me, as if he knew something I didn't. How strange. "How'd you know about that anyway?" I asked suspiciously. "Oh, let me guess: My Granny told you everything about my childhood, didn't she?"

"No, she didn't. But she didn't need to."

"Well, then. You must be a real good stalker to know stuff like that about me," I said stiffly, not at all impressed. "Were you there when my Grandmother brought it for me, or something? Because she really brought that toy for me out on a whim..."

He rubbed his fingers around his chin, looking thoughtful.

"She didn't buy it for you," he said quietly, sounding pretty sure of himself.

"Really, Mr. Know-It-All? Who brought it for me then?"

"It was I who brought it for you."

I got a bad dose of the creepy-crawlies over that. Then I laughed loudly to show I got the joke, expecting him to do the same. Only, he didn't. He just stared at me contemplatively, with that small little smile on his face, like he was enjoying himself immensely. He was scaring me, but I tried not to let it show in forcing a smile on my face. "You didn't," I told him lightly. "I know you didn't, because my Granny did. She brought it for me. Hell, she even gave it to me herself!" I was getting a bit over-defensive on the topic, sure, but I always tended to get that way when it came to my Grandmother.

"No, it wasn't your Grandmother," he insisted, keeping up with it pretty darn convincingly. "It was I. I put the toy on the last step of your porch one night, where I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that your Grandmother would find it. Exactly as I hoped, she did and she gave it to you."

"Prove it then," I challenged. I didn't believe him for half a second.

"I wish I could. Sadly, I threw out the receipt. But if you do happen to come across that toy again, look very carefully at the tag. I wrote my initials on there. If you still question it, search for that toy and then once you find it, you will see my initials on the tag and you will believe me then..."

"How is that possible, though? I had that toy when I was, like, seven-years-old, and you've only met me recently, right? We only just met that morning you showed up for Church and tried your luck on me, so how can that be?"

"The first time _you_ met _me_ was at Church that morning, where I have known _you_ for far longer."

Hmmm. Well, that really didn't make sense to me at all. "Night," I said shortly, keeping it short and sweet. I wasn't in the mood to argue on it, so without wasting any time whatsoever, I clambered out of his car. He didn't drive off until the instance I got in the front door.

During dinner I was still thinking about the toy Eric mentioned. I was eating all my food like a good girl, but I never really tasted anything. It was kind of scary to think he had been the one who had actually brought it for me, and not my actual Grandmother. I couldn't say I believed him. It just didn't seem possible, because... how could he have? It was years ago when I got that toy, probably around eleven years since, or maybe even more. Eric didn't look that old.

"Gran, do you still have the toys I had when I was younger lying around?" I asked her hopefully, as I messed around with my food by the fork.

"I do. They're in a box in the closet, why?"

"Well, do you remember a toy I used to love? Apparently I named it Bear, when it was meant to be a dog?"

"Oh, yes." She laughed to herself fondly, instantly remembering. Gran might have been forgetful recently, but she wasn't now when it came to my childhood. "I remember that. You loved that toy. There was a time there where I couldn't get you away from it."

"Did you buy it for me?" I shot at her bluntly. It was what I ultimately needed to know the most.

"It's too long to remember whether I did, honey. How long has it been?" She wondered to herself out loud. "God, maybe fifteen years now. Maybe even longer than that."

Eric said he had written his initials on the name-tag. If maybe I could find it... then I'd really know, wouldn't I? "Can you help me find it?"

"Sure, I will after supper," she agreed, without hesitation. It took us a very long time to find that toy, after dinner. Gran pulled out an old box that had a few stuffed toys in it, and she kneeled down, instantly getting into the mission with enthusiasm. It wasn't looking very good, at first, because I couldn't spot the dog in there anywhere. But then by some miracle, Gran said excitedly, "Oh, wait. Here it is." She pulled it out from the box and handed it to me. It had cobwebs sticking to its fur, and one ear was almost torn off at the seams. In all things considered, it was a pretty ugly toy. It's ears were too big for its face. It really looked its age, showing wear and tear. "Is there a particular reason you wanted to find it?" Gran asked me, and I looked up to find her watching me closely with suspicion.

I didn't really want to have to tell her, so I merely forced on a smile and laughed. It sounded like a fake laugh, even to me. "No reason, Gran. I just remembered about it today at work. I remember I was so crazy about the ugly thing...and wondered if you still kept it, is all." And, as it turned out, Gran had actually kept it, Heaven knows why. It was kind of touching that she had.

I found the tag hanging on the bottom of it, near the tail, so I held it up to the light to see it more clearly. My stomach dropped. I flung the toy right down at my feet, and it bounced very nearly a centimetre into the air.

Eric was right. He hadn't been lying. There was initials on it. _E.N, _written in red pen.

How completely messed up was that? The toy I had spent my younger time innocently cuddling up with in bed wasn't from my Grandmother at all, but the very same maddening man who had put me in a hard situation tonight. I had a lot of mixed feelings on the discovery, as well as a lot of nausea. This was probably dating years and years back. How could he have known about me then, and brought me that toy? To say I was freaked out was a total understatement. I was absolutely horrified.

"You got this for me, didn't you, Gran?" I asked her, even though I knew it wasn't the truth.

Gran simply hummed her response, and I noticed she looked a little embarrassed and unsure. It was pretty much all the verification I needed. No, Gran hadn't brought it for me. She found it outside on the porch, exactly like Eric had said. This was really a lot for me to digest. I know it was just an insignificant, little toy, but it meant that Eric had known about me all from childhood. I mightn't know what that meant, but it was scary.

"Oh, Gran," I groaned, "I'm going to hit the hay. Goodnight."

"Now?" Gran was surprised. "But it isn't that late?"

"I know, but work was busy tonight," I lied. "We got in a lot of customers, and I'm beat. I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

"All right, honey," she called nervously, and I could feel her eyes on me all the way into my bedroom.

I got changed into a long shirt and pulled back the covers on my bed, trying not to think too much on everything I had learned. It wasn't very easy not to panic on everything. I stretched over and flicked off my lamp, hoping some darkness in the room would make me forget and put me into more of a sleepy mood. It hadn't, and when morning arrived and I was assaulted by light escaping in through my curtains, I felt almost as if I hadn't really slept at all. I probably hadn't.

I stayed in bed for a bit longer, thinking everything through.

I still hadn't come up with a decision on what I was going to do, about this marriage business. I also still wasn't sure on what to think about Eric being the one buying me a toy when I was littler. I still wasn't sure whether I believed it, despite the truth being there. The evidence was there for me to see, so why was I still doubting it? I didn't know why I was, but sometimes it was better not believing and turning a blind, sceptical eye on everything.

I didn't know how long I stayed lying around in bed for, but it became obvious that sleep wasn't what my brain had in mind for me. No, my brain just wanted to keep me thinking... Seeing no other way out of anything, I chose to get dressed for work. It was a well-needed distraction for a few minutes. I put on my make-up, too, and soon it was easier not to think so much and stress. My hair really needed a good brush before I put it up, and yet I couldn't seem to find my hair-brush. I searched long and hard around the perimeters of my room and I had no luck in finding it anywhere. Maybe I had left it downstairs for some reason?

Halfway down the stairs, I heard Gran talking to someone, while she fussed around in the living room. I could faintly hear her giving directions to somebody. She also told someone not to hurt themselves, and she sounded real worried as she said it.

"Gran?" I called out to her with frustration. "Have you seen my hair-brush anywhere by any chance?"

She acted real odd, in pressing a finger up to her in lips, warning me to be quiet. "Ssh," she hissed. "Your brother is still sleeping upstairs." She was hanging by the living room, watching somebody while she leaned against the door frame. I had thought maybe it was Jason helping her with something, but apparently not, because he was still asleep upstairs.

"What're you doing?" I asked her suspiciously. She looked as if she was admiring somebody.

"He's just helping me move the furniture in the living room around a bit, honey," she told me, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

"Who is? One of Jason's friends?"

"Well, no. Uh, it's-"

"Me, min kära," someone cut in, and their voice was very deep and masculine. It sounded oddly familiar to me, and I got my answer as I peered into the living room myself curiously. My heart leaped in my mouth at the sight.

Somebody was helping Gran rearrange her furniture, and it wasn't any of Jason's friends that had one of the armchairs up in the air with apparent ease, holding it tightly over their head. No, it was Eric, and I immediately realized why Gran was flustered the way she was. He was shirtless with little more than a pair of jeans on, that hung loosely off his hips. Oh, my. I had a difficult time not staring myself, because he had a real nice body. Plus, added with the way he was holding the armchair in the air without so much as any difficulty whatsoever, it showed how strong he was. I knew for a fact those armchairs of Gran's weren't very easy to pick up, but sure enough, Eric looked as if he was enjoying himself. His biceps were bulging something beautiful, and he turned to look at me with some amusement in his eyes.

"Good morning, Sookie. How are you feeling?"

"I'm well," I mumbled, trying to grasp firm hold on myself. I felt all lusty for some reason. I had to take in a deep breath to bring myself back into the matter at hand. I turned away from him, with trouble. "Uh, Gran. Do you know where I put my hair-brush?"

"Oh, yes. I saw it in the bathroom, dear."

In the bathroom? Well, fantastic. Why hadn't I thought of that? It certainly would have spared me from going downstairs and seeing... all this.

"Great. Thanks. Bye-bye."

I rushed upstairs, fast as I possibly could.

I was still in a somewhat hazy state as I found my brush and started combing my hair. Somebody's black shirt was lying on the tiles, and it didn't take a scientist to know just who it belonged to. Just my luck, he came in as I was tying up my hair loosely. I watched him surreptitiously through the mirror as he bent down to retrieve his shirt, shaking it out loudly in front of him. Why did he have to have such a nice body? It was super unfair.

"Mm," I thought I heard him breathe appreciatively. I was probably mistaken, though.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling a bit shy. "Did you just say something to me?"

I heard a lot of clothes shuffling, and knew he had his shirt back on where it belonged. Thank Heavens for that. I risked a sneaky peek behind my shoulder to catch him just pulling down his shirt over himself. Eric was staring right into my direction.

"I can take my shirt back off, if you'd like?" he asked, his voice distinctively teasing.

I shook my head roughly to clear it. "Uh, why would I like that?"

His shoes padding against the tiles gave me warning that he was standing closer to me. It definitely paid to be aware of your surroundings sometimes.

His eyes met mine from behind me in the mirror. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

"Is there something I can help you with, or are you just going to stare at me all day long?" My voice worked with me, at least. I sounded truly annoyed. It gave nothing away on me. I noticed how close Eric was standing behind me, when I moved to turn and face him. My elbow brushed against his shirt, and I had to back up against the sink just so I couldn't touch him anymore by accident. He obviously loved standing real closely by. He also evidently loved staring like I was a piece of steak or something.

"Have you made a decision?" He asked, his voice soft and melodious. "I did say I would give you the night to think it through. So have you?" His hand came up and he brushed a stray piece of hair with his thumb back behind my earlobe. "As I said... we don't have long."

"Yeah, and I'm fully aware of that. Trust me."

Very softly, he caught my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, and he started rubbing, stroking, rhythmically. Despite it being such a simple gesture, it felt real nice. Sensual, almost. I felt like a kitten being stroked and petted, for some reason. His eyes searched mine deeply, and it took everything I had not to shiver in delight.

"You said you needed time to think about it, and I granted you that. Have you come to a decision yet or not?"

"I have," I answered shortly. It was kind of hard to talk while he was doing that weird thing with his fingers to my earlobe. I couldn't think coherently.

"And what might that be?" His lips arched with the faintest trace of a smile, and instantly my eyes were drawn to his mouth. He had that glistening thing happening again between his lips. Something was there, but I couldn't tell what...

"I've decided that..." I swallowed dryly, still goggling his mouth. "...Out of the kindness in my heart and nothing else, I agree."

"Oh, really?" Eric breathed quietly. "You agree?" He sounded shocked. Surprised. He obviously wasn't expecting it.

"I do. But I have some... conditions."

"Conditions. And what might they be?" His cool fingers kept it up with their tantalizing on my earlobe. I never knew earlobes could be a hot-spot for some people.

"Well, since this would only be about keeping you in the country and nothing more, I don't want to make a big fuss out of it. I want no one hearing about it. I want it to be a quiet thing, nothing fanfare. Just you and me, going to the courthouse and getting married. Nothing else."

Eric moved quickly, throwing me off-guard. Before I had time to even realize, his mouth was by my ear and he was bending down over me. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong," he murmured into my ear gently. "You will get what you want, in this being quiet, nothing fanfare. But I fully have intentions of making the entire world know that you are mine."


	15. Last Minute Indecision

**Hey guys,**

**I want to thank you all so much for being so sweet. I'm so shocked by your interest in the story. I definitely wasn't expecting that. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) Much love x**

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

One of the men that came in tonight at Merlotte's was really a vicious character. He had a shiny bald head and every inch of his muscular body was covered in tattoos. He didn't look like the usual redneck. He was pale, and wearing all black. He was real aggravated over something, and I could hear him arguing with Tara all the way from where I stood, serving people in my partition. I wasn't worried for Tara, because unlike me, she could defend herself. She was giving this big, beefy guy a run for his money in the argument stakes. When I crossed back over behind the bar, I could hear their argument loud and clear. He wanted something- only, according to Tara, we didn't have it. It didn't help when he was being purposefully blasé on what it was he wanted. He wasn't giving Tara much help in understanding.

"I need it." I heard the man saying in a whiny voice. "They said you can get it online now? Most bars are buying this shit online to stock up for the big day coming up. Why don't your bar supply it yourselves?"

"Well, then why don't you just go get it online then?" Tara was saying in her well-known don't-mess-with-me voice. Tara could be admirably strong when she wanted to be. "Or what? Are you too dumb to know how to use a computer or something?"

I cringed at her comment. That was a bad move, even for Tara.

It just drove the man even harder. "I'm fucking thirsty, woman."

"Right. And how the fuck is that my problem?"

"I don't know. You tell me. You're the one that's supposed to be running this fucking joint."

"Oh, please," Tara hissed. "I'm not the goddamn manager. Why don't you go tell it to him? How the hell am I supposed to help you, if you can't even tell me what you're looking for, huh?" Unfortunately for me, Tara spotted me near her. She gave me one of her desperate looks. I hadn't wanted to get involved at all. The man was looking on the verge of either crying or becoming dangerously violent. "Sookie, can you talk some sense into this guy for me? I can't deal with his shit right now."

"Oh, sure," I muttered nervously, despite my body screaming against it. I inched closer to the counter in front of Tara, smiling in a way I hoped was placating to the man, who cocked his head and looked at me over closely. He was breathing heavily, so I knew Tara had only made his mood worse. "What can I help you with? Maybe I can be of more help than my friend over here?"

Tara made a rude noise, which told me I had insulted her. I turned quickly and gave her an apologetic look.

Even with me, he evidently wasn't going to be of very much help. "Yes, I need a drink," he said, in a soft but scary voice that almost made me want to run for cover. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"All right, then." Keeping the smile on my face, I turned and waved to the shelf behind me, holding all the liquor in place. "What particular drink do you have in mind? We have vodka, and Kailua? If you're going for something a little stronger, you could have whisky straight up? Or there's bourbon?"

The man cursed underneath his breath. Then he slammed a fist down on the table. I almost felt the entire oak of the bar shake. "Jesus Christ," he growled in frustration unpleasantly. "I just told that black woman over there that what I'm needing ain't one of your regular drinks. Why are you unable to understand that?"

I sighed quietly. I had dealt with some trying customers in my time, but he was hardest of all to satisfy. "Then why don't you tell me the brand of the drink you're looking for, and I can see what I can do about that?"

The man rested his arms on the counter and slid closer so that he got right up into my face. He was even more daunting up close and personal. I didn't know why he gave me such an unnerving effect, but he just did. "Clearly, you don't have what I got in mind, girl," he said in a reasonably calm and low voice. "I can see that now." I was very glad I had seemed to calm him down a notch, since Tara obviously wasn't doing the job. I felt my entire body relax and I found that I could smile more easily.

"All righty, so just what can I get you?" I asked, having some trouble keeping the tremble out of my voice. "I'm terribly sorry we don't have what you're looking for, Sir. Maybe I can get you something else instead?"

"Well, fuck yes, you can." His eyes brightened with some unidentifiable emotion I couldn't place. Then he clicked his fingers loudly, and pointed right at me with a forefinger. "You can get me you. How about that?"

"Excuse me?" I laughed out, in a croaky voice. I might have been mistaken, but it seemed to me that he was making the moves on me. If so, that was about the lamest pick-up line I'd ever heard in months. "I can't say I understand where you're going with this, Mister?"

To top it all off, he gave me a leering look. Yes, he definitely was making the moves on me. No doubts about that now.

He was obviously enjoying my discomfort over what he said. He gave me an unpleasant little smirk. "You got exactly what I need, and it's your job to be accommodating to your customers, right?"

"Yes, to some extent, it is," I said, keeping a sweet smile on my face, despite it all. "But I really can't see how I would be of much help to you. If I can't get you a drink, sir, then I'm afraid there isn't much else that I can do." I shrugged, aiming to look apologetic. "I'm sorry about that. You best be on your way now."

He laughed gently, and it was rather a frightening sound. Hell, everything about the man was, though. He moved closer across the bar, staring down into my eyes deeply. I felt suddenly as if I was the poor little mouse and him the big bad cat, for some reason. "You got exactly what I need in you," he went on. "Now why don't you just do you job and give it to me?"

I felt something funny, along with his staring. It was like invisible spiders were tickling me, from the scalp downwards.

"Oh, but I am doing my job," I told him, sending it back for all it was worth. "And I'm telling you, I can't help you."

"But you can, little darling. You can help me more than you'd ever know. And I'm awfully thirsty." Reaching up, the fellow dragged a long forefinger down the side of my chin. I fought the malicious urge I suddenly had to grab his finger and make the attempt to snap it off. I didn't know where that thought came from, but it was scary to know I could be violent, if need be. My eyes were drawn instantly to his mouth. He had the same thing Eric had going on for him. There was something there, long and glistening between his lips. I didn't know what that meant, but I guessed him and Eric were one of the same; Different. Strange.

"Look, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. You're making me feel uncomfortable, and I'm not a fan of feeling that way. If you refuse to leave, I can always call over my boss, if you'd like?" Sam was always good with handling things like this, probably better than I would ever be.

This man wasn't a fan of being threatened. His lips tightened into a snarl, and his eyes blazed with fury. "All I'm asking for... is a drink. You're really going to call your manager over, just for that? This is a fucking bar, after all..."

"But you're very aggravated, and we don't like people like you coming in here and stirring trouble. I think that gives me good enough reason to call my boss over to deal with you himself."

"Look at you," he whispered, through clenched teeth. "You think you're so much better than me, don't you? Well, I got news for you. You just wait, till you realize that. You'll be sorry for messing with me, and if I want a drink, I can just reach over and simply take it." His index finger was stroking my throat, and I absolutely hated it. He was disgusting and rude, this man was. "You're so turned on by this, ain't you? You're all like that, though, aren't you? You all can't get enough of danger."

Wow, this man was delusional. Turned on? Yeah, right!

Just like that, I lost my cool. I grabbed his finger tightly, curling my hand around it, and with all my might, I twisted back, hard. Much to my dismay, he didn't even cry out in pain. It hadn't hurt him in the slightest. He simply laughed at me cruelly.

"I'm gonna have myself a lot of fun with you," he said, and before I knew it, he had reached over to grab the back of my head tightly. "I love me some fighters."

Oh, Jesus. Hell, no. What on earth was this crazy guy's problem?

Just as I was getting too worried, he immediately let go of my head and stiffened, all due to something, as if he was waiting for something bad to hit him. His eyes were darting to-and-fro, and he closed them briefly, as if ashamed by his crazy behaviour or frightened. I wasn't sure which. Putting a weird hammy smile on his face, he turned away from me. I found out why, as I peered behind his shoulder.

Eric was standing there. I hadn't even heard him come in. But something about him had this guy scared and cautious of him. Truth be told, I could see why myself, when I looked at Eric's face as he stood there. He looked less-than-pleased over the strife this strange fellow was giving me. He looked, simply put, furious. His hands were balled up into fists at his sides, and his shoulders were tensed. His eyes were lit up with fury, too.

"What can I say?" The man said to him quietly, sounding funnily enough sincerely apologetic. "I'm thirsty."

He ignored the man and looked over at me. His expression softened, enough that he was smiling tightly at me. But the tension was still there around his eyes. "Sorry I'm late, honey," he said gently, startling me. Since when was I his honey? Flabbergasting me even more, he reached over the counter to slide his arm around my shoulders. I felt like somebody had winded me, when he softly kissed me on the cheek. This was way too strange, and I was too shocked by everything that I found I could hardly find my voice. Turning to the man, he addressed him, in a cold clear voice. "Learn a little patience," he advised him, quietly and sternly. "In fact, take this and leave. Now." He pulled something out of the trench coat he was wearing and pressed it into the man's right hand. It looked like a flask, and the guy peered down at it with some surprise. "Do not bother thanking me," Eric went on. "If I catch you here again causing any trouble, I will make it my number one priority to hunt you down myself."

The man didn't need to hear another word. He ran out of the bar pretty fast, like a desperate man. Evidently he was frightened of Eric. He had me frightened of him myself, sometimes. But right now, all I found myself was equally glad and amazed by how helpful he had been in intervening. I got to really thinking if he hadn't then that guy might have done something terrible to me. I didn't exactly know what that terrible something was, but it had me all shaken up.

"Thanks for that." It took a lot of pride to say it, but I knew it was most definitely warranted.

I pulled back slightly to look up at him. I could tell he was fighting back a huge grin. "Oh, anytime." Since his arm was still wrapped around me, I pulled it off and gave it back to him. His fair eyebrows drew together, and he looked a little disappointed.

"Is there a reason why you're here? I mean, I'm assuming there is?"

"Yes, there is actually. Tomorrow. Six-thirty."

Tomorrow, six-thirty? "Uh, what's tomorrow?"

He eyed me warily, as if he was looking for my reaction ahead of time. "I called and made a reservation at the courthouse tomorrow morning at six-thirty, as you wanted. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

I hadn't needed to know just what he made a reservation for. For us to get married, of course. Why so early, though? While I knew we didn't have very long to wait, that was really illustrating how desperate he was.

"Well, aren't you desperate?" I remarked sarcastically. "Usually men are more keen to run for hills than to ever get married. According to my friend Arlene, anyway..."

"There will be no running for me. I have waited long enough. Frankly, I am impatient for this to reach its fruition."

"Well, you shouldn't be," I muttered underneath my breath. "Because this won't exactly be a real marriage at all. This is about you staying in the country, that's it. To me, anyway. This isn't about any personal feelings arising for you. This is more of a... business strategy."

"A business strategy?" He repeated, sounding stunned. "Now isn't that an interesting way to look at it."

"Yeah, it's exactly that. There won't be any sex coming out of this either. Once it's over and done with, I want you off my back for good. This is the only way to get you to leave me alone and stop pestering me. So this is why I'm doing it. After we go to the courthouse tomorrow, I want you to let me alone. You don't even need to keep in contact with me. You can go off seeing other people, and doing whatever you like."

He stepped back from the counter in surprise over my little admission. I could tell he wasn't pleased in the slightest over the way I was viewing the entire thing, and my type of way in looking at it. "So this is what this is all about?" He sounded as if he was having difficulty digesting it down. "You are agreeing to this, but it isn't a matter of yielding to me at all?"

There was that term he used again. _Yielding._

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'If you can't beat them, join them'?" I asked him, holding in a bitter smile.

"I have heard that," he admitted softly.

"Exactly, and that's what I'm doing. I know it is the only way to finally get you off my back, so I'm taking that desperate action in marrying you for the sake of all this annoyance ending with you. There's nothing else but that."

"You might say that now, but-" He started desperately with irritation in his tone. I cut him off, fired and ready.

"I know there is something different and strange about you," I told him, with fierce honesty. "I'm not that dumb to marry a man I don't know, and one that I feel suspicious of enough as it is. And that's why this can never be real, what happens tomorrow between us. It doesn't mean that I've warmed up to you, or that I like you on some personal level. It doesn't mean anything. I'm just only doing something that feels right in my heart, to keep you in the country you love so much and consider your home. And also, this is just about the sense of gratification I need to feel in helping someone out. It is nothing else, but that." Excusing myself politely, I left him standing there, shell-shocked, while I went about my work again. Catching flies was a very good expression into how he looked, with his mouth hanging open the way it was, and I knew he was ready to start arguing to the heavens back at me.

Only, I hadn't given him the time to. I knew that made him mad, most of all.

* * *

I had my alarm clock set and ready to go off at six the next morning. I knew Gran would have still been in bed, so that spared me any discomfort in having to try to dodge her questions into what I was getting up to. I didn't want anyone knowing of this, least of all my Grandmother. They would have made a huge fuss and assumed this was such a big celebratory occasion. It was anything but, to me. This was merely about doing the right thing in helping a man out, when he needed it. That was all this was to me.

I had already picked out the dress I was going to wear the night before.

I showered, shaved under my arms and legs, and got changed into it. It wasn't exactly what you would have called a wedding dress: It was just the nicest little white dress I owned in my closet. It had little daisy prints on it, and it kept me modestly covered. It also wasn't low-cut and it didn't show off my cleavage or too much of my legs, so I considered it a modest dress to wear out to your own private, fake wedding to somebody. I wore my hair out and put in some pretty pearl-drop earrings that belonged to my Grandmother. I was hoping she wouldn't know I had taken them, just to borrow them for the occasion. I just wore flat sandals to add to the dress, and I put as little make-up on as possible.

I snuck downstairs to an empty kitchen and even had the time by myself to make a coffee before he arrived. Eric was fifteen minutes early, which didn't really surprise me at all, considering how eager he seemed to be. I opened the door to let him in, and I stood around awkwardly, taking him in. He was taking me in too, with what looked like an expression of awe. He looked... stunning. In a black suit, with a clean white shirt underneath, combined with a red tie. I was surprised by how nice and cleaned-up he looked; He looked like he was wearing the most nicest and expensive suit he owned. He was wearing exactly the type of outfit I imagined a man would, when he really cared about the woman he was getting hitched with. He made a real effort to dress up, which was nice.

I was sure he also enjoyed my delight.

After we spent several weird seconds ogling each other in our wedding outfits, he held his elbow out to me. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" he asked, sounding enduringly nervous and excited.

I slipped my hand through his elbow and simply nodded. My voice had left on me.

I couldn't deny I had my reservations about the entire thing. I didn't trust the man one bit, and not even this would change that. I was still wary of him as all hell, but I bit all that down for the sake of helping him. We got in early and told the minister we had arrived, which he was very pleased about. The minister was an elderly man who was wearing a white suit, and I took quick inspection of the courthouse before we sat outside, waiting for our time to come. Eric was impatient, and he showed it. It was in the way his hands kept moving about restlessly. He couldn't even sit still. I was nervous, but I seemed able to hold it in better than he was. I wasn't so fidgety as we waited outside. I felt oddly calm, like I was accepting this was the end for me. It almost felt as if I was attending my own funeral or something.

I think in a way to stop his hands moving around so much, he leaned over in the chair and grasped one of mine. I stole a peek at his face to find he was staring at me. He looked overwhelmed with emotion, which was kind of funny and touching.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, trying to get some conversation going, I think.

"Fine," I answered truthfully. "Calm. Accepting."

"Oh, I almost nearly forgot." He delved a hand quickly into the breast pocket of his suit, bringing out a little purple satin pouch for me. He sat it in my lap, staring at me expectantly. "Open it and see what's inside. I brought it for you."

Well, damn. I hadn't thought of buying him anything.

"Really, you did?" I asked suspiciously. "It isn't another toy, is it?"

"Of course not. You're a little old for toys now, aren't you?"

I didn't bother answering that. I certainly was too old for toys now. I still felt funny about it, truth be told. I still don't understand why, or how. But I shut my mouth and pulled open the drawstring to the pouch instead, intrigued. I hoped he hadn't gone way too far, and that he had brought me something far too big. It was a little silver wrist bracelet, with pendants dangling on it. Stars, moons. How weird. It was cute, though. It also made me feel guilty as sin.

"It's a bracelet," he stated matter-of-factly, like he believed I didn't have the wits on me to know that myself. "All these things are exactly what I am offering you."

"Um, yeah. I can see that."

It made me warm up a bit. It was like my bones had softened into jelly.

I smiled over at him shyly. "Thanks, that's real sweet of you." I held out my wrist, which he observed with a raised eyebrow and some confusion. "Well?" I prompted meaningfully. "Aren't you gonna put it on me?"

He hesitated for a bit, before taking the silver bracelet carefully with his fingers. He got a peculiar expression on his face as he closed it shut around my wrist, I noticed, like he was pained or something. Either that, or he just had real bad wind that he was trying to suppress or something. He gasped quietly and rubbed his hands all over his trousers, and then the look that came on was gone, just as quickly. I got a weird little feeling in my gut over that, another one to add to the top of the lists. How fucking strange was that reaction.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, voicing my concerns.

Eric laughed nervously, but it sounded really fake to me. "No, everything is just fine. I'm just hoping they will speed this up a bit, before you end up changing your mind."

"Right," I laughed, a little nervous now myself. He obviously didn't notice I was watching him, when he lifted his hand and started sucking around his digits urgently, like his fingers were stinging or something.

Despite the sweet gesture of the bracelet and how itchingly enthusiastic he was with us getting married- which some might have considered romantic- the doubtful feelings I had been trying so hard to suppress whacked me in the head like a wrecking ball. What the hell was I doing? What was I getting myself into? Because those were answers I didn't know myself. Could I really go through with this?

* * *

**I'm very sorry how confusing the story is. I promise things will be answered (I think that makes it all the more fun guessing things). All will be revealed shortly. I'll give you a hint: This is an alternate realm where vampire's haven't come out of the coffin yet, and the revelation hasn't happened yet. Hence Sookie's suspicion that something isn't quite right. I hope you'll bear with me, I'm sorry. Hope you don't hate me or are getting annoyed. Thanks so much for reading, I'm very thankful. Hopefully see you next update! x**


	16. The Bar With the Bite

_**I want to thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. They honestly make my day. Hope you enjoy this one. Feel free to let me know your thoughts x**_

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Our time finally came, and the sense of dread refused to leave me.

It was like a fast blur. One moment, we were getting called in and then in the next, we stood facing each other by the stage and Eric was staring down at me, almost triumphantly. He took my hand gently in his, said, "I, Eric, take you, Sookie, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love, worship, and honour you for all the days of my life." I repeated the promise quietly, not even feeling the words or understanding their significance. And then the priest was blessing us, "By the power vested in me, in the wonderful state that is Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Eric put his hands on either side of my face, and I knew he wanted to kiss me. He was staring into my eyes and it appeared to me that he was asking for it. His thumb stroked across my lips, his eyes flew down to my mouth and then, before I knew it, it was happening. He had gone and done it. His mouth was on mine with gentle, short little kisses. He was obviously far more enthusiastic about it than I was. I pulled away, disgruntled, which I knew made him disgruntled in return. We had to sign a legal document, as well as the judge, verifying our marriage. I was pleased when it was all over.

Usually, I thought girl's were supposed to be happy when they got married. I felt anything but. I couldn't even endure looking at Eric as we went out for lunch afterwards. If I let myself look at him, I was afraid of what I might do to him, so I solved that problem pretty easily in not looking at him at all. I kept my eyes on the sandwich I had ordered. Eric had ordered nothing. I realized I hadn't ever seen him eat, not once, when we went out together. Surely a man had to eat, right?

I allowed myself one look at him, and all it did was make me feel horribly self-conscious. He was leaning forward a notch over the table, his eyes fixed on me. It was vastly turning out that I couldn't even eat in peace, without the man staring as if it was such a monumental event in history.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" I asked, a little annoyed.

He moaned low in his throat. "I actually already had something before I came here."

"Well, aren't you organized?" It occurred to me that I was being incredibly rude. I wiped my hands over my mouth before sitting up a bit in the seat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, you can. You are my wife now."

Something told me he was going to keep rubbing that in my face just to irritate me. With all my might, I tried to keep my voice neutral and quiet. "Well, I saw those initials you told me about on the dog," I said. Then I added slowly, just in case he didn't get my point, "The proof that you did actually buy me that toy when I was littler, and not my Grandmother doing it."

"So now you know I wasn't lying about that," he murmured, trailing a hand across the table to meet mine. He rubbed his fingers over my knuckles.

I didn't want to beat around the bush, that wasn't the way I did things. I made sure I looked him directly in the eyes, as I asked, "Why did you get me that toy?"

His fingers stilled from rubbing over my hand dramatically and his brows creased. "I thought children liked toys?" I got the feeling he was deliberately misunderstanding me.

"Answer me," I begged desperately. "Obviously you knew about me when I was a little girl."

I thought, for a moment there that he wasn't going to enlighten me. He pressed his lips tightly together and leaned back in the chair, the image of frustration. He sighed loudly and waved his hand in the air absently, telling me he was about to answer. "You could say that, yes. I've known about your existence since the very day you were born."

Instead of helping me out, it only just presented me even more questions I couldn't figure out the answer to. "And how'd you know that?" I demanded, my voice raising a notch. I could tell it was beginning to draw people's attention, but oh well. I needed answers. I needed an explanation. "Were you really stalking me for that long?"

He looked me over silently for a beat, studying me. Then he reached over across the table again to take my hand. "Would it really be a bad thing if I was?" he asked quietly, throwing the question back to me. "What if I did, but I intervened and interfered in all the precise times?"

"What?" I growled. He really wasn't making a single bit of sense to me at all.

"Do you recall that relative you had, the one that used to pester you so?" he asked me, his voice deathly cold." He was a very, very bad man, wasn't he? He enjoyed sitting you down on his lap, being the sick fuck that he was, didn't he?"

I started to feel my breathing speeding up with panic at that, whenever I thought back to what happened during my childhood years. Those had been the bad days. Instantly, I knew who he was referring to, at least indirectly. He was talking about an Uncle of mine. I hadn't told anyone about what had happened. Then again, I hadn't needed to. The last time my Uncle bothered to come over for his weekend visits was about the strangest, yet most miraculous moment of my life. He would touch me, here and there. They were occasional pettings that made me feel disgusting and uncomfortable at the time. I would always dread him popping over for his visits. But one day, it suddenly stopped. It was almost as if he couldn't stand looking at me, almost like he knew of the pain he had put me through, so it was enough to stop him trying it ever again on me. It just confirmed my horrors; Eric knew way more of my childhood than he had initially been letting on. Yet how could he?

"I never dared to tell anybody about that," I told him weakly. "So, you knew about that, too, huh?" I gazed up at him to find he was watching me intently. My stomach churned.

"I know everything about you," he said strongly with conviction, and now, I didn't doubt that. He obviously did. "Didn't you think there was anything rather... peculiar when your Uncle visited again?"

"Sure, I did," I breathed uneasily. "I noticed how he couldn't stand looking at me. It was almost as if someone had punished him, and made him aware of his wrongdoings towards me..." I took in a deep breath, trying to relax my heart. "And, funny thing was, he never visited again. It was like somebody had warned him away, almost." Soon as I said it, it hit me. It took me awhile to finally get it, but it struck me that it was exactly what Eric's point was, probably all along in bringing it up. "Did you say something to my Uncle?" It seemed ridiculous to me, but maybe he had?

"I did, yes." He sounded nothing but sincere.

I covered my hands over my face, fully aware that my fingers were shaking. I just didn't know what to think. Just when I start to believe I'm getting somewhere... something else came along. "Now that is what I can't reconcile, just how it was possible," I muttered, aggravated. "You act and speak as if you know everything about me, and yet, I don't know how you could. I don't know you at all!"

"And that is partly my fault." He sighed heavily. "I deliberately kept myself away from you. It was a matter of timing."

This was all too much for me to take in. I had a sudden, strong urge to flee. So that was exactly what I did. "Well, I guess you're real happy now that you've gotten what you've wanted," I said tartly, getting to my feet. In all my haste, my shoe got stuck on the leg of the chair and I toddled and swayed a bit. Eric rose to help me, but I dodged him, quick smart. "You're allowed to stay in the country now, I take it. So now that I've given you that, please just stay the hell away from me!"

"So this is it?"

I looked him up and down, with the most hateful look I could muster. "Yeah, I guess it pretty much is. Just stay away!"

"You'll understand one day," he said, his voice low. "You will understand my cause for all of this..."

"Cause?" I whirled around to look at him. I was almost shaking with fury. "What reasonable enough cause is there to just stalk somebody, ever since they were a kid? You're just as sick as I thought!"

"Clearly you don't consider me sick enough, if you were willing to marry me."

In spite of my resolve, I flushed at that remark. "Oh, trust me, I do," I snapped. "You make me want to vomit. It's how bad you sicken me, you... you sicko!"

He sighed loudly and started pacing back and forth, his hands resting on his hips. I could tell he was trying to refrain from cutting loose all of his anger onto me. "What did I do to deserve being treated this way from you?" he hissed, full of disbelief. "I have done nothing!"

"Nothing?" I repeated, hysterical. "You think you've done nothing?" How blind was he? I mean, really! I felt so enraged that I could have done something seriously terrible to him; My temper was that strong. In a way to alleviate myself and to act responsible, I turned on my heel and stalked away down the road.

"Sookie!" He called after me. Just my luck, he was following me like a bad rash. When he grabbed me by the hand, I swung around and pushed him. It was all pushing into a hard brick wall for all the minimal effect it had on me. He didn't stagger back a single bit.

"What have I done?" I shouted, mainly to myself. "How could I be so stupid in agreeing to marry you? Now it's done, and I can't take it back!"

"Am I really that disgusting to you? Am I really that fucking bad?" He had the gall to sound upset and offended. I shrugged dismissively, and I caught it as he took a step closer to me, his hands raised. I stepped back hastily just as he was about to touch me.

"Don't," I grumbled. "Go away."

He tried to touch me again, in a way to comfort me, I was betting, but I stepped back again, holding up my hands this time in warning.

"Please, just don't," I said again desperately.

I could feel him watching me carefully. And then he said softly, "Your nose is running."

"Oh, really? I wonder why..." Beyond all sense, I wiped my nose on the back of my hand carelessly.

He went to touch me again, really pissing me off. "Don't even think about it, I said," I warned him. "Touch me and I'll scream the world down."

"I just want to extend the courtesy, all right?" I got what he meant only when he gently pushed a handkerchief into one of my hands. He definitely was extending the courtesy. I recalled immediately that time at Church where I had handed him tissues and handkerchiefs for his bleeding nose, and despite my best attempts and all my miserable anger, I smiled weakly.

"I hope you haven't used this," I muttered, embarrassed.

"I haven't," he said softly. I could tell he was trying to hold in a laugh.

I suddenly felt embarrassed for behaving the way I had. But when I was stressed or upset, it tended to happen. I couldn't help it; It was beyond my control. I couldn't bear to look at Eric, I was so embarrassed. I kept my eyes on the handkerchief he had given me, blowing my nose softly. I felt like the most pathetic, smallest thing in the world.

"We keep ending back here, don't we?" he said quietly, after a few moments. "What is it going to take?"

I blinked up at him, confused. He was looking off into the opposite direction, exasperated and upset. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. When he turned to look at me again, I forced myself to hold the look, staring into his worried eyes. After a very long moment of silence shared between us, he stepped forward closely and wrapped his strong arms around me, squeezing me tight. I sagged against his chest and clutched to his expensive looking dress shirt, wetting it with my salty tears. I felt him brush my hair back gently with the back of his hand, and he rested his chin on top of my scalp. Although it was him, I still found comfort in being hugged by somebody. I sighed a little, relaxing.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured against my hair, his voice low, hoarse. "One day you will understand. Now isn't the right time for it."

"What's there to understand?" I muttered into his collar.

"You have to work with me, not against me." His voice was barely audible. He pulled back and tucked my hair behind my ear. I peered up at him, feeling my face trembling and despising it. God, I really had to stop being such a baby. Reaching down between us, I felt a little spooked when he touched my stomach, caressing it with splayed fingers. "I have waited for you since here." He pressed firmly into my stomach with his palm to emphasize that. He gazed down at me with anxiety.

"What?" I gasped, unnerved.

He ignored that, almost effortlessly. "Can I show you something?" he asked, sounding a little uncertain and nervous.

"I guess so."

A little reluctantly, I let him lead me to his car. Eric didn't tell me where he was intending to take me. But as I surveyed our surroundings suspiciously, I knew we were in the Shreveport, LA area. The sign gave it away. "Where we going?" I asked again, for what felt like the hundredth time I'd asked it.

"It's a surprise," he simply said, smiling mysteriously. A few moments later, Eric took a sharp left down an industrial road and parked outside an abandoned, brick building. It was obvious it was unused presently. The tell-tale sign was there in the graffiti marking the fence near it separating it from a few residential buildings. When I heard Eric unbuckle his seatbelt slowly, I did the same and turned to look at him. His expression was funny.

"What is this place?" I asked, unable to hide the worry in my voice.

"Remember how I told you I was interested in opening a vampire-themed bar?"

Suddenly, I got it. No wonder he was showing me. This was his big dream.

"Let me show you around," he said excitedly. I waited patiently for him to open the door on my side for me, knowing he enjoyed doing that. He took me by the hand as we crossed the road, and I was still stuck on that unpleasant graffiti when he opened it up and stepped aside to allow me to head in first. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when I looked around, I was shocked by how terrible it looked. People had obviously smashed their way into the premises, because there was broken bottles here and there. It looked like a decent enough sized room for a bar, though. As I reluctantly turned my eyes away from the mess, I found Eric was staring at me. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, it looks like it's going to need a lot of work. It's definitely decent sized enough to have a bar in here. I think it's ever bigger than Merlotte's."

"I'm thinking about calling it Fangtasia. I have a full vision. I want a sign out front, a huge sign. One that people won't be able to miss." It was obvious he had put a lot of thought into it. Taking my hand again and letting him, he lead me through the main room and showed me another. The door had been kicked off, so you couldn't close yourself in. But it was another fairly decent sized room. "It is going to take a lot of work, but Pam and I have enough time on our hands. I was thinking of this room being my office."

I turned to look at him, nodding to show I understood. Eric was still gazing at me, looking rather anxious.

"I've already put down a payment, so this is mine now," he went on softly. "Pamela and I are thinking of restoring it tonight. At least, we're going to try to restore it by tonight... Hopefully, she'll be up and running in a few days."

"So you're finally accomplishing your big dream, huh?" I whispered, impressed.

He nodded at me once, looking very serious.

It really did look like a heck of a lot of work, though. I couldn't see how it was possible for him to get it up and running after only a few days, considering all the mess.

"You could even work here, if you wanted to," he added cautiously. I really didn't know what to think about that. "Then again, you probably wouldn't like that." He laughed softly under his breath. "It would only fulfil my stalker tendencies. I would only be watching you like a hawk."

I couldn't tell whether he was joking or not, but I laughed nervously anyway.

He stepped in front of me and placed his hands gently on my shoulders. It was hard to look at him, but he made it easier on me by placing the fingers of his right hand underneath my chin, guiding me up gently. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

I nodded, speechless.

"I wanted to check and make sure you were fine with this."

"Why wouldn't I be? I mean, it's your idea. It's good that you're so set on accomplishing it. Most people aren't as brave."

"Hmmm." His eyes raked slowly down my face and back up again, his face transforming into something a mixture between excitement and deviancy. "Would you still consider me brave if I chanced kissing you now, Miss. Fiery?"

"I wouldn't consider that brave, but very careless of you. I can be very unpredictable."

His mouth dropped open at my remark, and then he laughed, surprised. He leaned forward a fraction, and I really got to thinking he was about to chance it and kiss me. My mouth dried, and I closed my eyes, waiting for it to happen. But when I reopened my eyes again he was standing away from me, studying the walls of what was going to be his office. And then he turned to look at me, plucking his lower lip with his thumb and index finger. A small smile crossed his face.

"Unpredictability," he muttered quietly, almost to himself. "I love that."

**Hey guys,**

**I'm not too sure if I should continue the story due to comment made? I understand that the story is silly. I apologize.**

**EDIT: Thank you all for being so sweet, and for encouraging me, so for you all who are interested, thank you, I will continue. I have a plan written out where all plot holes will be revealed very shortly. I just hope you'll stick around with me :-) Thanks so much x**


	17. The Revelation

**_I want to thank you all for being so nice and sweet. I really do hope you enjoy this one. :-)_ **

_**Here is one piece of the puzzle (which no doubt you guys already knew, but Sookie didn't). Thank you guys so much, hoping it isn't lousy or disappointing.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Arlene, Tara, and a few short order cooks were standing around in the bar, listening to the television. Even Sam was out of his office, and whatever he was watching on the television, it didn't make him feel too happy. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was staring at the screen in distaste. I went inside to put my belongings safely away in the staff room, then I went back out to see what all the fuss was about. I stood between Tara and Arlene. Arlene was looking a little pale.

"Would somebody care to tell me what's going on?" I asked either one of them. "Has someone important died?"

"No, Sookie," Sam explained for me, since the girl's weren't doing the job. "Just fucking vampires."

"Vampires?" I repeated, unsure whether to laugh. Nobody else in the bar was laughing though. Everybody was glued to the screen, so I made like a sheep and stared at it as well.

A woman was on there, dressed immaculately in a ruffled white skirt and blouse. Her hair was blonde and neat, short to her shoulders, and there was something glistening between her teeth. She looked very professional, yet scary at the same time for some reason. Her name was Nan Flanagan, and she was holding her own against the male reporter, who was shooting questions at her mercilessly.

_"What has taken you so long to come out?"_

_"Well, we wanted to show you all that we are perfectly capable of fitting into society. We have existed for years, and have managed to go under the radar in communities. It shouldn't surprise you; That person you think you know well, that woman who talks to you on the street at nightfall... that man who buys you flowers. Heck, even your husband; They could easily be a vampire and you wouldn't know it. It is because we have blended into society that well. It's why you don't need to fear us. We are exactly like you, aside from a few specific dietary needs."_

_"Could it be possible that all the mysterious deaths that have taken place over the years have been responsible from your kind?"_

_"Show me documentation that says that. But the fact is, there isn't any. Besides, your kind can be murderers, too, can't they?"_

Sam threw in the towel after that. He clicked off the television, much to everybody's protest. Truth be told, I was still hanging on for more myself. How could I have not seen this coming? But according to the looks on everybody else's faces in the bar, it turned out they hadn't, either.

"Alright everybody," he said with frustration. "Let's all get back to work."

"Whoa. Vampires are real?" I asked Tara, feeling freaked out.

"I guess so, Sook. How messed up is that?"

"Very messed up," I agreed nervously.

It wasn't until I got to work, like Sam wanted, that it clicked.

Eric wanted to open up a vampire-themed bar.

Eric bit me once on my neck. He had blood all over him. Not to mention he often pursued me like he was the big vicious cat and I was the stuck and cornered, timid mouse.

I have always had a huge hunch that there was something not right with him. He was... different.

I tried to remember my knowledge about vampires, from all the supernatural stories I had read. What did they hate? Garlic, silver. Sunlight? Eric could get around during the day. Did that one thing strike him out as being a vampire, because he could stand the sunlight? I imagined vampires couldn't. Didn't they burn, turn into ashes, or a bat? I was going around tables, collecting empty glasses, when it sort of hit me again. I was wearing the bracelet he gave me.

It was silver. His reaction to that when he had touched it... A glass slipped from my fingers and smashed at the ground.

Holy fuck. Was the man I had agreed to marry secretly a vampire? He did have the tendency of making me feel like food around him.

How do you even go about asking that? Do you just ask outright, or was that kind of ridiculous?

Worst case scenario, he wasn't one and I would just make a fool out of myself by asking. There isn't any harm done in asking, though, is there?

And, if he was... how was I even meant to react to that? I would feel a little betrayed, and tricked into marrying the man, if he was. It was always nice to know something real serious about a person before agreeing to anything sudden.

I got through work in a frozen state, but I got the feeling a lot of people felt that way over the revelation. The bar was unnaturally quiet, and nobody was talking very much. I guess it was a shock to everyone. After a while, I began to feel sick and heady over my stressing of the unknown. I tuned it out, as best as humanly possible, and just focused on working. When work finished, I felt tired and incredibly confused. I also felt the slightest bit of fear and dread.

Tonight, it had been arranged that I would sleep-over at Eric's for the first time.

I hadn't ever slept over at a man's house before, but I couldn't exactly say that was the only source of my nerves. I had packed a duffel bag in the morning full of clothes and necessities I would need to bring with me to his apartment. It always felt real good to be prepared ahead of time. I had also made up a lie to Gran, telling her I was staying over at Tara's for the night. It felt bad to drag Tara into all of this, but I couldn't have exactly told Gran what I was really doing, could I?

I drove to the whereabouts of his apartment with a mild sense of detachment. When should I ask him? The instance he opens the front door to let me in? When I'm inside? When I'm sleeping in his bed? He said he was an insomniac after all. Maybe I could ask him outright during the night, since he pretty much said he doesn't sleep during the night? But then again, maybe asking him in bed wouldn't be such a very bright idea? What happened if he got angry by my asking, and murdered me right there on the spot for blowing his cover?

I parked across from his apartment and sat in my car for a little while, trying to figure the easiest and safest way of asking. There were lots of lights on inside his apartment. I could faintly hear upbeat music thump, thump, thumping away in there, too. Were they having a party? A celebratory one. Oh God, maybe they were all celebrating the revelation of vampires?

It occurred to me that I was stressing way too hard. I was scaring the shit out of myself. Scaring the shit out of me even more, there came a sudden knock against my window and I clamped my hands over my chest, as my heart raced furiously. I looked up through the glass and there Eric was, standing over my car and leaning in to see me. I probably looked so guilty and embarrassed as I forced myself into moving. I grabbed my duffel bag and climbed out of my car. Eric took my bag for me, swung it easily over his shoulder, and he waited patiently without a word as I locked my car up.

He did not say a single word to me as we crossed the road towards his apartment. I looked up at him, his mouth was pressed into a hard, thin line, and I considered just asking him right there and then. But I chickened out.

My first suspicions on a party were correct. The instance we got inside, I was assaulted by the sights unfolding out before me. Heavy metal music was playing, with a loud, earth shattering bass. That U-shaped red lounge chair was taken up by four people; Two men, two women. The two men were stroking each other's hair and staring deeply into each other's eyes. His roomy Pam was huddled up on the couch with another woman. She looked at me quickly, just to know I was there, I think, and then she got back to it, kissing the woman near her passionately and hungrily. I began to feel a little sick. The way I was brought up, all that stuff was meant to be private. Then again, she was doing it in her own home, wasn't she? I was the intruder here. I had no right to say anything, so I didn't.

Eric was able to ignore everything easier than I was, I noticed. He walked straight past the living room, without even so much as a curious glance into his roomie's direction. I figured his roomy always had people over, so he had grown used to it. I followed him as he went down along the hallway, still holding my bag slung over one shoulder. He dropped my bag on the bed and turned back to the door again, his eyes on the floor. He closed the bedroom door to block all the noises from out in the living room with a loud bang, causing me to jump. I didn't believe it was necessary for him to be so loud.

I didn't even know where to begin, but I thought being subtle was the way to go. "Are you guy's having a party or something?" I pried. "Has some good news happened?"

I sunk down slowly on the edge of the bed, crossing my arms and knees, while I attempted to gauge his expression. "I suppose you heard what happened today?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I waited for him to expand on that. I was holding in my breath, waiting for it. Only it never came. I guess he felt that was all he needed to say, because he turned slowly so his back was facing me. I could hear him undoing the buttons of his shirt. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"About that woman on television?" I went on. "The one that announced vampires were real? How funny is it. I mean, practically anyone could be a vampire, she was saying, and we mightn't even know it. From someone you see down the street... to your... your _husband_," I added the last part with a little more force, hoping to get the meaning across. "I don't know about you, but I would feel kind of... betrayed if I found out that somebody was lying to me about who and what they are. I believe honesty is always best in any given situation, especially when-" I trailed off, a little shocked, when he threw his shirt down at his feet.

When I heard the zipper of his trousers coming undone, I had to turn away. I swivelled around to face the wall, trying to ignore the clothes ruffling as much as possible. He was getting naked in front of me. I sure wasn't expecting that.

"Anyway, uhm, I... would hope that _somebody_ would tell me the truth and ease my mind," I rattled on anxiously. "Because, if it_ does_ turn out that way, I really wished it could have been different. As in, knowing ahead of time, and maybe then I wouldn't have felt as suspicious and on-guard if I really knew." I wasn't sure if I was making any sense to him, but he didn't exactly say anything in response to give me any hints.

I caught him out of the corner of my eye as he sauntered over towards the little drawer beside the bed. I could tell he was naked as the day he was born, and I didn't even have to look to know. I could feel him watching me as he placed something on the top of the drawer. It was only when he had moved out of eyeshot again that I looked curiously. It was that ring he often wore. The one with the black stone. I wondered what it's significance was.

"You want the truth?"

"Well, yeah. I want the truth. Isn't that obvious?"

"And you are sure you would be able to handle it?"

"It would be for my sanity in understanding," I told him vehemently. "And, it might make me feel less... mistrusting of you, if I could fully understand. Because, right now, I don't understand much. I don't understand how you knew about me when I was a little girl. I don't understand how you could have brought me that toy, or talked to my Uncle. I don't mean to insult you and I know I've been quick to judge, but all I can think about when reflecting on all those things is that you're a stalker." During telling him all this, he must have somehow moved to stand in front of me. I kept my eyes on his bare feet, because I didn't trust myself to look anywhere else.

"I will give you one answer, and it is the only one I feel most comfortable with in giving you," he said, and raising his hand from his side, he gently took hold of my chin, tilting my head back so that he could look directly into my eyes.

And there they were. Fangs. I finally knew what they were, and _what_ he was now. Why he seemed so different. But it definitely changed things a lot.


End file.
